The Blacksmith's Son
by starrylaa
Summary: He has the hands of a blacksmith but a heart of a prince- if only she could see that. AU fic, in which Arthur is the blacksmith's son, Gwen a princess and Lancelot the enviable but smarmy knight.
1. Chapter 1

**The Blacksmith's Son**- Chapter One

**Title**: The Blacksmith's Son

**Chapter**: 1/?

**Rating:** PG

**Summary:** He has the hands of a blacksmith but a heart of a prince- if only she could see that. AU fic, in which Arthur is the blacksmith's son, Gwen a princess and Lancelot the enviable (but smarmy) knight.

**A/N**: Thanks to lovedbyahero over on lj for her help. Writing Arthur as a peasant was hard to do whilst at the same time trying to retain his character, but hopefully it works. Also, even though I love Lancelot, this is not a Lancelot-friendly fic. Much. Also, the derivations of his name weren't thought of by me.

* * *

She lives in a castle that might as well be in the sky.

He lives in a house barely bigger than a shed, and his life is so far removed from hers, that she could be the sun and all he'd be is solid ground.

But he finds her fascinating.

He's watched her since he was a boy. Seen her as she's transformed from a shy little princess into a fully fledged woman set to be queen. She's kind and graceful, but strong and intelligent too. And he can't take his eyes off her.

Yet she never notices him when he passes her in the corridor with a smile on his face. She never sees him when he stands in the sidelines of the knights' tournaments; ready to replace the knights' weapons, but eyes constantly trained on her. She never observes him when she dances in court with other men; him wishing that he could be the one dances the night away with.

To her, he will always only be a peasant boy that she will never get the chance of fully seeing.

But to him, he will notice her always.

* * *

Her heart belongs to Sir Lancelot, the greatest knight in Camelot.

He watches from the edge of the stands as Lancelot takes part in yet another tournament. Guinevere doesn't take her eyes off him, of course, and nor does the array of giggly girls seated in the front, hoping that Lancelot would cast a glance at them.

"Lanceahot," a voice pipes up beside him.

Arthur turns to face his friend Merlin, who joins him at his side. "What?" he says, frowning.

"Lanceahot," Merlin reiterates. "That's what the fans are calling him. Lanceahot... makes the girls swoon a lot," he muses.

Arthur gives him a look and raises an eyebrow. "Thanks, Merlin, for that riveting piece of information." He thinks for a moment. "I'd rather call him Pratalot."

Merlin snorted. "You would."

They both turn their gazes on the knight, who is deep in combat with another knight.

_He's good, _Arthur thinks, watching the graceful way Lancelot handles the sword. He moves like a warrior and carries a certain grace about him that makes him seem like he was partaking in an ancient dance, rather than combat. But Arthur couldn't help but feel that there was something missing; a certain refinement to his moves. _I could do better, _he thinks almost wistfully. He's not a knight or a nobleman, but life as the blacksmith's son has taught him a thing or two about weapons. He can wield a sword faster than a flash of lightning; manipulate his mace with deadly precision and fire an arrow with extreme accuracy. He may never be deserved the honour of fighting alongside the knights of Camelot, but there's a warrior in him that refuses to be restricted by class and status.

He lets out a sigh and trains his gaze on Guinevere. Her eyes follow Lancelot's every move, and she bites her nails in trepidation. For a moment, he allows himself to imagine that he is the knight fighting for her honour, and she is the one looking on at him with worry.

"She's way out of your league," Merlin reminds him, as he seems at wont to do lately.

Arthur snaps out of his reverie and scowls at Merlin. "I'm allowed to look, aren't I?"

Merlin shrugs. "I don't know. Lanceypants could have you arrested."

Arthur snorts. "I'm sure he would if he knew that I existed."

"Then it's a good thing he doesn't know." Merlin pauses and thinks for a moment. "You know, I could curse him. Turn his ears into carrots or shorten his legs. Try and even out the competition for you," he suggests.

Arthur pretends to consider this. Ever since he discovered that his friend wasn't just a physician's assistant, the two of them would joke about Merlin's powers and what he could do. Well, mostly joke anyway.

"And you think that shortening his legs will make him less appealing to Guinevere?"

"If I make him about three feet tall I'm sure it would reduce it somewhat, yes."

"It's tempting Merlin. No, really, it is."

They both fall into a pensive silence.

"Even if I so much as garner her attention, what do I have to offer her? A shack for a house and a pathetic excuse for a blacksmith's workshop," Arthur suddenly says.

"And don't forget great biceps," Merlin quips and then looks sheepish when Arthur throws him another look. "Sorry," he says. "You have... integrity and honour and all that other fancy stuff. Wealth and status does not mean everything."

But Arthur can't help but think it does.

Before Arthur was born, his father used to be a respected knight of Camelot. In his prime, Uther fought many great battles and won plenty of tournaments. His status led him to meet the Lady Igraine, who would become his future wife and Arthur's mother. Uther loved her more than anything in the world, more than fighting and more than being a knight. When Igraine died during childbirth, Uther sank into despair and depression, and he became unsalvageable. King Thomas had no choice but to strip him of his knighthood, being no longer able to trust him. In turn, Uther lost his nobility, and in doing so, lost everything, and had to start again from scratch. Picking up the broken pieces of his life and having to bring up a newborn son on his own was tough, but he knew his wife would not have wanted this behaviour. So he became a blacksmith, and strived to become the best Camelot had ever seen.

A part of Arthur would always despair at the life that could have been, and it took him a long time to understand why his father had allowed himself to fall as he done. Falling in love with Guinevere made him eventually realise the effect that love could have on a person, and whilst Arthur might be angry some days at the hand fate had dealt them, he could not be angry at his father to succumbing to such a destiny.

Wealth and status could mean everything: power, prestige...and her.

Sometimes it was a struggle to remember that there were more important things in life.

* * *

He spends his days in the workshop, lost in a world of fine-crafted weapons, envisioning a scene where his weapons are the one thing that stops a group of knights from losing in a battle.

Now and then, Merlin would pop in and talk to him when he had finished Gaius' chores, despite the fact that Merlin hated the workshop for being too hot.

Merlin would sit and chat and tell him about the adventures he had got up to whilst doing his chores and Arthur would work and listen, smiling over the fact that only Merlin could make a simple errand such as delivering medicine end in disaster. Every so often Merlin would tell Arthur to stop working and Arthur would quip back that Merlin only wanted him to stop because he was jealous of the muscles his job gave him. Merlin would scowl and pretend to curse him before going off on his next errand; always leaving a smile on Arthur's face.

Arthur and Merlin were as different as night and day. One was stocky and fair, the other tall and dark. They had different outlooks on life, and certainly different destinies. Merlin was destined for great things, Arthur knew. With his powers, how could he not be? But Arthur had no distinction; nothing to set him apart. He would only always be just a blacksmith. And he wanted more than that life.

He is walking to the castle when he spots her high above in her tower.

He stops what he's doing and simply stares at her.

She's looking out the window, with a faraway look in her eyes and a glimmer of wistfulness. Her hair is done up in an elaborate twist and the colour of her dress sets of the warm brown hue in her eyes.

_If anyone is meant to be a princess, _he thinks, _it's her._

The princess lets out a sigh and her gaze shifts, before landing on Arthur.

Arthur's eyes widen in surprise when he realises that he's been busted, but before he can move, she smiles at him.

Shocked, he manages to smile back, and for a moment they share a look; her smile drawing their two worlds together, and allowing him to forget his burdens. But this is immediately broken when the Lady Morgana comes up beside Guinevere and leads her away, leaving Arthur standing down below; reeling from the moment.

_This might be the closest he'd ever get to her._


	2. Chapter 2

**The Blacksmith's Son- Chapter Two**

**Title**: The Blacksmith's Son

**Chapter**: 2/?

**Rating**: PG

**Disclaimer/references:** Merlin does not belong to me. If you squint and close and eye, you'll see that some scenes and vaguely based on events in canon.

**Summary**: He has the hands of a blacksmith but a heart of a prince- if only she could see that. AU fic, in which Arthur is the blacksmith's son, Gwen a princess and Lancelot the enviable (but smarmy) knight.

* * *

Lancelot has won yet another tournament and, in honour of that, the King has decided to throw a party and somehow Merlin has roped Arthur into helping.

"Think of the free alcohol," he points out, although Arthur doesn't feel like this is incentive enough.

With a scowl on his face, Arthur goes around making sure that all the food and drink is in order and when he's done, he goes to stand near the door, with an eye on the lookout for Guinevere.

Lancelot is standing in the centre of the hall, giving some pompous speech about his achievement that seems to last forever and he appears to be lapping up the attention of the adoring women surrounding him.

"Look at him!" Arthur mutters bitterly to Merlin, as some of the alcohol they've consumed starts to set in. "Smug bastard."

"He is nauseating," Merlin agrees.

"It's the smirk," Arthur begins.

"And the arrogance," Merlin adds.

"And his ridiculous hair!"

"Really? I quite like his hair. I wish mine was more like his." Merlin touches his hair in thought and Arthur rolls his eyes.

"You would," he muses.

"Let's just face it, Arthur, we're just jealous of him because we can't compare to the likes of him." And Arthur knows that the alcohol really must be having an effect if their conversation is stooping this low.

Arthur ponders this. "No, I'm pretty sure I dislike him because he's a roundabout prat."

"That too."

That train of thought dissolves immediately when Lady Guinevere enters the room and, just like that, time stands still. Dressed in a one-shouldered, long, flowing cream-coloured dress and moving with the grace of a swan, she looks stunning. She gives a smile to everyone in the room and there's a certain glint in her eyes that makes everyone lean towards her instinctively. Arthur watches on, entranced.

"Camelot to Arthur," a voice calls out beside him. "Your jaw is hanging open," Merlin informs him.

And just like that, time seems to speed up again.

Arthur emits a sigh and observes as Guinevere goes up to Lancelot and curtseys before him. In return, he kisses her hand and Arthur suppresses the feeling of jealousy.

Everyone in Camelot knows that the princess will one day marry Lancelot. There hadn't been an official announcement of their betrothal, but the king holds the knight in such high esteem that he couldn't have loved him more if he was his own son. The marriage of the pair seemed obvious and there was no doubt that Lancelot was the best suitor for Guinevere around, much to the dismay of possibly every male in the kingdom.

"Of all the people you had to fall for, you had to go for the unattainable one," Merlin muses, as if he could read Arthur's thoughts.

"It's because she's worth it, Merlin. I know she is," he answers back and he doesn't need alcohol in his blood to convince him that this is true.

* * *

A few days later, Lady Guinevere and Lady Morgana are on their annual pilgrimage to Morgana's father's grave, when they are ambushed by bandits.

In the ensuing fight, the men who had accompanied them are seriously hurt and the bandits end up kidnapping Guinevere; Morgana being able to make a lucky escape to inform the king.

When the news spreads that the princess has gone missing, Arthur can't stop worrying for her safety, wishing desperately that there was something he could do. But there was nothing.

Naturally, Lancelot sets off to find Guinevere and two days later he brings back a very dishevelled and startled princess.

The whole of Camelot are ecstatic, of course. For their princess to be kidnapped and then rescued by their beloved knight makes for the kind of story fairytales are made of. Everyone cheers and celebrates and Arthur wonders if he's the only one to think the knight a giant ponce.

Two weeks later, Arthur is hard at work in the workshop. He's covered in stains and his red tunic top feels disgusting against his sweaty skin but none of that registers as he works on the sword in his hand.

His hammer bangs against the hot iron and he bends it into shape; picturing the final product that the sword will become.

Behind him, the sound of the door opens.

"Merlin, I'm busy," he says, without turning around.

Someone clears their throat behind him and he immediately realises that the person who has just entered the workshop is definitely not Merlin.

Turning around, he's incredibly surprised to find Lady Guinevere standing before him and he drops the hammer in his hand to the floor, barely missing his foot.

"My lady," he greets in surprise.

She gives a slight nod and smiles, uncertainly. "I'm here to see Uther Pendragon," she tells him, her gaze shifting to the fallen hammer.

His eyes widen slightly. "My father is away on business. He will not be back for a few days," and he's surprised at how calm his voice sounds, despite feeling anything but.

"Oh." She looks slightly disappointed.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" he inquires, in hope that she will stay a little longer.

"Only if you know how to make a weapon," she replies.

He gestures to the sword on the table and she smiles when she sees it.

"Of course you do," she muses out loud with a slight roll of her eyes. "I'm after a sword," she informs him.

"For Sir Lancelot?" he asks, casually.

She shakes her head. Surprising him again, she answers, "For me."

"_Oh_."

He does not know much about the noble people, but he's fairly certain that they would never let a lady, let alone a princess, have her own sword. However, he does not voice such thoughts. It's not his business to do so.

"I've come here because I do not want my father finding out what I'm after and rumour has it that your father makes the best weapons in Camelot."

"Indeed he does. I can let him know that you're after a sword when he comes back." He hesitates for a moment before saying, "Of course, if you want, I could make you a sword. I'm not my father...but I know how to make a good weapon."

She looks at him intently and studies his face. "I'm sure you do." She gives another smile, before waiting a moment to say, "I will be honoured if you make me a sword."

He beams at her, delighted and the two of them talk for a few minutes about the specifications.

When they're done, he doesn't realise that he's looking at her rather curiously until she shifts uncomfortably under his gaze.

"I want to learn how to fight," she finally says in response to his unspoken question. "I don't want to be just a helpless princess anymore."

Her confession surprises him and he finds himself admiring her a little more. He can see in her eyes that she is still shaken by her kidnapping and for a moment he worries that he is the only one who sees it.

"That's very courageous of you," he says in reply.

"Nobody knows that I'm doing this. They think that I have merely gone to see the physician."

He holds her gaze. "Your secret is safe with me. You have my word."

"_Thank you_." A look of concern crosses her face. "I'm sorry, I've been extremely rude. I haven't even asked you your name."

He tries to hide his surprise that she would want to know. "Arthur. Arthur Pendragon."

"Arthur," she repeats to herself. "I am Guinevere," she says, even though the two of them both know that _everybody_ knows her name. "But you may call me Gwen."

"Gwen," he utters silently. The name feels strange on his lips.

"Your sword will be ready in a week or two," he tells her.

She gives another gracious smile; something she never seems to be short on. "I will call back in a week."

"I look forward to it, my lady."

She gives a slight bow of her head and turns to leave the shop.

When she's gone, he can't stop the grin from forming on his face.

* * *

For another night running, she can't seem to sleep.

When she does, the nightmares begin and end with her waking up gasping for breath; fear clutching at her heart. Since her kidnapping, she lives in terror that they might come back for her and it is something she can't seem to shake. Everybody believes her to be okay when really she is anything but.

Restless, she moves to stand by her window. Looking out, she is surprised to find the courtyard not empty.

Down below on the ground where the knights usually train, a lone man stands with a sword in his hand. She immediately recognises the man as Arthur and watches him as he wields his sword; the moonlight dancing off his sword and hair.

_He fights as if it's an incredible dance, _she thinks and it's true. Arthur's moves are instinctive, accurate and magnificent all at once and are enough to put any of the knights to shame.

Before today, she'd never paid much attention to him, only vaguely recognising him as the physician's assistant's friend. She didn't expect him to be a fighter and certainly didn't expect him to train at such late an hour.

_Does he train here nightly? _She wonders and wonders further still how she could have been so oblivious to it. _Lancelot will have a fit if he finds out that Arthur practises out here, _she thinks, before vowing not to utter a word.

Instead, she continues to watch him; his movements soothing her unsettled soul.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Blacksmith's Son- Chapter Three**

**Chapter**: 3/?  
**Rating**: PG  
**Pairings: **Arthur/Gwen, Gwen/Lancelot, Merlin/Arthur BFFness  
**Disclaimer/references:** Merlin does not belong to me. If you squint and close and eye, you'll see that some scenes and vaguely based on events in canon.

**Summary**: He has the hands of a blacksmith but a heart of a prince- if only she could see that. AU fic, in which Arthur is the blacksmith's son, Gwen a princess and Lancelot the enviable (but smarmy) knight.

* * *

He remembers clearly the first time he saw her.

He'd been running around the castle grounds, keeping his own company, when he'd fallen and hurt his knee, making it bleed. There was no one around to help him off the ground, and instead he had lain there, sobbing; willing the pain to go.

And then she appeared out of nowhere.

"Little boy, why are you crying?" a voice had asked, and when he had lifted his head up, he found himself looking at a girl in a frilly dress with flowers in her hair and mud all over.

He had sniffed. "I hurt my knee."

She cocked her head and looked at him with sympathy.

From her dress, she took out two handkerchiefs: one for his bleeding knee, and the other for his tears.

She came to sit next to him, and waited for his tears to stop, which they did almost immediately.

"I hate it when I fall down and hurt myself," she mused. "My mummy always used to kiss my hurts better."

He sniffed again. "Does she not anymore?"

A sad look passed on her face. "I don't have a mummy anymore."

"Neither do I," he told her, and the two of them smile.

"What's your name?" she asked him.

"Ar-thur," he said, almost shyly.

She sticks her hand out and he takes it. "I'm Guin-a-vere."

He gives her a puzzled look. "Gwen-ver?" he tries.

She grins and shakes her head, and says it again. But he still can't get it right.

"I like your flowers," he tells her instead.

She takes off the daisy chain around her neck and hands it to him. "I like picking flowers," she tells him, which he could have guessed from the bright-coloured ones in her hair. "They always make me feel happy."

He looks down at the flower chain in his hand, not sure what to do with it.

"Keep it," she tells him. "They'll protect you from falling down again."

"Really?" he asks wide-eyed.

She nods.

"_Wow._"

Suddenly a knight came up to them.

"Lady Guinevere," the knight says. "Your father is looking for you."

The little girl sighed and stood up.

"It was nice talking to you, Ar-thur," she says to him before following the knight, and his eyes suddenly widen again when he realises that the girl was in actual fact a princess.

He watched her go off and fade into the distance, and all the while he held the daisy chain tight in his hand.

Eight year-olds do not know what it means to fall in love, but at that moment, he comes the closest he can to doing so.

Time will go on, and Guinevere will forget she met him and that she ever knew his name. She will grow up and transform from that flower-picking girl to a lady in full bloom; the flowers in Arthur's hand will die and he will eventually learn that nothing can prevent a person from falling and hurting themselves in any sense of the word.

But he would not trade the day he first met Guinevere for anything.

* * *

Gwen woke up to the sound of someone knocking on her door.

She sat up in her bed and it took a while for her to compose a coherent, "Come in."

Lady Morgana enters her bedroom and is surprised to still see Gwen still in bed.

"Late night?" she inquires.

"You could say that," Gwen said with a yawn. She had had yet another sleepless night.

Morgana comes and perches at the end of her bed. "Thoughts of Sir Lancelot keeping you awake at night?" she asks with a smirk.

Gwen snorts. "Hardly," she answers.

She is fond of the knight of course, and she suspects that she adores him to some high level. But she has known him far too long for him to be on her mind constantly.

"Lancelot will be devastated," Morgana muses, and they both look each other and laugh.

Morgana is like a sister to her, and has grown up practically so. Her parents had died when she was young, and the king adopted her as his own, having been close to her father. Gwen believes that no one knows her better than Morgana and she tells her everything, that is, aside from still feeling unsettled from her kidnapping, and her need to do something about it.

"So what are your plans for today?" Gwen asks.

Morgana shrugs. "Nothing to do with tapestry, that's for sure."

"Well, I'm going to go out and tend to the gardens. You can come if you want."

Morgana wrinkles her nose at the prospect.

"We can gossip idly and you can tell me about all those knights you fancy," Gwen says enticingly.

"Only if I get to give them a mark out of ten."

"Deal!"

"Well then, what are you waiting for? Get dressed!"

* * *

Arthur is on his way to see Merlin when he has the misfortune of seeing Lancelot.

Lancelot has made his way out of the castle, and Arthur mentally groans at the sight of him.

He's surprised, really, that Lancelot's perfect walk doesn't call for time to stand still and for it to appear like he's walking in slow motion, or for the sun to bounce brilliantly off his immaculate hair, making him seem god-like. He half expects Lancelot to stop walking and to flick his hair back dramatically, but he doesn't.

He plans to walk pass him whilst resisting the urge to knock him over, but this choice is immediately taken out of his hands when another passerby accidentally pushes him into the path of Lancelot; causing the knight to tumble over. He ends up stumbling himself but prevents himself from falling as well.

There's a long, awkward pause, then Lancelot gets up and glares angrily at Arthur.

"Watch where you're going, you giant oaf!" he cries.

"I am _so_ sorry," Arthur replies, sarcasm dripping heavily from his voice. "Did I mess up your hair?"

Lancelot narrows his eyes. "It's not wise to cross my path," he warns.

Arthur rolls his eyes. "I accidentally bumped into you, sire. I did not spend all night plotting to trip you up in the morning." _Not this time anyway,_ he thinks.

And Lancelot gives him a look that clearly says, _Just get out of my sight, you riff-raff!_

Before he could do so, however, a voice interrupts them.

"Lancelot!"

They both look in the direction of the voice, only to find Guinevere arm-in-arm with Morgana.

"I hope you're playing nice," she says to the knight.

Lancelot immediately straightens up and his features soften. "Of course, my lady. I wouldn't do anything but."

Which is a load of rubbish, but Arthur does not feel the need to voice this.

Instead, his cool blue eyes lock onto Guinevere's and holds it for a moment longer than necessary, before going on his way.

* * *

"Who was _that_?" Morgana demands, the instant both Arthur and Lancelot have gone.

Gwen rolls her eyes, playfully. "That was the blacksmith's son, Arthur."

"Where has he been hiding all this time?" Morgana wonders.

"Away from your grasp, that's for sure."

"I didn't know what I was missing until I met you."


	4. Chapter 4

**The Blacksmith's Son- Chapter Four**

**Chapter**: 4/?  
**Rating**: PG  
**Pairings: **Arthur/Gwen, Gwen/Lancelot, Merlin/Arthur BFFness  
**Disclaimer/references:** Merlin does not belong to me. If you squint and close an eye, you'll see that some scenes are vaguely based on events in canon.

**Summary**: He has the hands of a blacksmith but a heart of a prince- if only she could see that. AU fic, in which Arthur is the blacksmith's son, Gwen a princess and Lancelot the enviable (but smarmy) knight.

**A/N: **Many thanks to lovedbyahero over on lj for her huge help on this!

* * *

Dinner is with her father, Morgana and Camelot's finest knights.

Her father sits at the head of the table and she and Morgana either side of him, with the knights seated all along the rest of the table.

Her father congratulates the knights on their recent successful mission. There had been news of a big dispute between two of Camelot's outlining villages and the knights had been sent there to resolve the issue. It had taken more than two weeks for the knights to solve the issue and they had come back particularly haggard, but King Thomas bestowed upon them words that eased their tired souls.

Every now and then Guinevere's gaze meets Lancelot's and they smile warmly at one another. She's missed him, she realises. She always hated it when Lancelot went away; hated the worrying and anguish that always accompanied his departure.

They eat their meals heartily; her father constantly praising the knights and Morgana deviously quizzing the men beside her about their private lives.

The meal draws to an end and one by one the knights leave, then her father and finally Morgana who smirks at Lancelot when she sees it is just him and Gwen who remain. When everybody has gone, Lancelot moves from his seat and comes to sit opposite her.

"Gwen." He breathes her name and takes her hand in his; placing a firm kiss against her knuckles.

She inclines her head toward him.

"It's nice to see you," she tells him honestly.

He keeps a hold of her hand. "Likewise," he tells her with another dashing smile.

"So how was it?" she asks. "Your trip, I mean."

The knight's eyes darken slightly. "Difficult," he answers. "The two villages had begun warring with each other and one had begun to resort to using magic, although not very convincing magic, might I add. When we got there, it was carnage. Many people lay fallen and the women were left to fight."

She immediately lets go of his hand.

"Is that a bad thing?" she asks, careful to keep her voice neutral.

Lancelot gives her a look. "It's bad that they had to resort to fighting, yes. Women aren't meant to be fighters, Gwen."

She doesn't notice her hand clenching. "Of course," she answers.

She knows that Lancelot means no harm by his words. As a knight, he sees it as a man's duty to protect, honour and serve. In his eyes, men are meant to protect their women. She wonders if it occurs to him that women sometimes need to be more than a damsel in distress.

She had briefly toyed with the idea of telling Lancelot about getting a sword, but his words had reaffirmed her belief that he wouldn't understand and part of her was slightly disappointed.

Gwen looks at her hand. "I am feeling tired, Lancelot. I think I will retire for bed."

"Of course," he says. He leans over and places a sound kiss against her temple. "Sweet dreams, Guinevere."

"You too, Lancelot."

* * *

Never in his wildest dreams did he ever picture this scene; he, the blacksmith's son, sword fighting with the Princess of Camelot.

_Stranger things have happened, _Arthur thinks.

The unusual scenario and the close proximity is causing havoc with his brain and Arthur knows that if her father found out about the degree of thoughts running through his head, he'd have him thrown in the dungeons and would throw away the key. Arthur concedes that it's a good thing that the king is in no way a telepath. And yet, it doesn't stop Merlin's voice sounding in his head: _You can look but you can't touch... _

It's been almost a month since he agreed to help her learn how to swordfight when they are first able to meet up. With Lancelot and his knights away on duty and her responsibilities as a princess, there was never a spare moment for her to meet him. But that month had passed by quickly and now she is standing with him in the woods not far from his house, dressed in a brown smock and black trousers, wielding a sword in her hands and trying her best not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

"Am I holding this right?" she questions, a look of uncertainty on her face.

He grins and shakes his head and she rolls her eyes as he moves over to her; placing his hands over hers and moving them to the correct position, trying not to linger. Merlin's voice repeats in his head again: _you can look but you can't touch ... _ And he thinks, _sod that!_

"Better," he states as he lets go of her grasp.

She listens intently as he tells her the basics. _Stand with your feet shoulder-wide apart ... Keep your posture straight ... Always be aware of your surroundings ... Make sure you protect yourself ... Assess your opponent, search for weaknesses ... And always, always keep your weapon at the ready. _

She grasps these all easily and she looks on at him impatiently, as if wanting to know something more interesting.

So he swaps her sword for fighting sticks, allowing her the chance to actually fight without having to fear either of them getting hurt.

Their sticks clang together as he talks her through the moves: _Keep your eyes on your opponent, anticipate each move, but let your movements guide you._

He's not really sure what he expected from Gwen: for her to be a delicate princess or a strong warrior-type, but the reality is that her fighting is somewhere in between. She's a quick learner and given the right conditions, she has the potential to be a brilliant fighter. She also has a surprising amount of feistiness and he's careful not to be too soft on her lest it vexed her.

They keep their combat up without breaking it and he watches her as she concentrates intently. He can tell that it's exerting for her and that she's not used to using her upper arm muscles so much. Her cheeks are flushed and the hair from her bun has begun to fall into her face, but he can see that she's enjoying herself.

They finally stop sparring when, in her tiredness, a gentle parry by him sends her flying to the ground. She laughs and he extends his hand out to her, but she shakes her head, motioning instead for him to come and join her. He smiles and sits down on the ground beside her and for a moment the two of them relax and stare up at the trees.

"Did you enjoy yourself, my lady?" he inquires.

She looks him in the eyes. "This is the most fun I've had in a long time."

"I'm glad," he tells her.

"So how long have you been doing this for?" she asks, her hand gesturing around.

"What, sitting on the ground of the woods?" he teases.

"_No. _Sword fighting."

He thinks for a moment. "I think I've always known how. My father would always wield around the weapons he made and sometimes when he thought I was sleeping, he would take out his own sword and practise the moves he learnt as a knight. I must have memorised every move."

She looks confused. "Your father was a knight?"

"Before I was born, yes. He was a very good knight, one of Camelot's finest." He feels uncomfortable talking about it and hopes that she can tell by the tone of his voice.

She changes the subject. "So, do you think I'm good enough to send out to battle?"

He grins. "Give it time and I'm sure you can audition to be your own knight."

She laughs. "My father will be jumping with joy at the prospect." She looks up at the sky and sees that the sun is laying low. "I best be going. It's getting late." She stands up.

He stands up too. "Of course."

"It was nice practising with you today. I hope to do it again soon." She hands her sword to Arthur for him to look after.

He takes it. "I look forward to it."

She smiles again. "Goodbye, Arthur," she says as she made her way out of the woods.

"Goodbye Gwen," he says to her retreating figure and stands there watching her go, grinning like an idiot.

* * *

She hasn't felt this elated in a long time.

Maybe it's the rush of adrenaline that sword fighting gives, or the feeling of roaming free in the outdoors or maybe being in the company of someone who isn't afraid that she might break; whatever it is, it sends her soaring.

On the way back to the castle she stops to pick some wild flowers. She told her father that she would be out picking flowers and she'd feel guilty if she didn't. Gwen doesn't consider herself a liar of any sort. In fact, sometimes she's possessed with the need to blurt out the truth, usually at inopportune moments. But this ... _this _one thing she will conceal. It will be her secret and the one thing she can keep as her own.

And she won't allow herself to feel guilty over it.

When she gets back to the castle, she heads to the court where she finds her father in his throne, talking to an advisor. He looks tired and incredibly beaten but upon seeing Gwen, his face lights up and she rushes over to him.

"Father!" she greets, placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Guinevere, what a pleasant surprise." He looks at the flowers in her hands. "Are those for me?"

"As always," she says, handing them over to him. "How has your day been, Father?"

He rubs the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Tiring. There's so much I still have to do."

She sits down on the step beside his throne, just like she used to do when she was younger. "I wish I could take away some of your burden," she tells him honestly.

He looks down at her and strokes her hair. "I wouldn't wish this upon you ever, Guinevere." He pauses for a moment. "There is, however, something I do need to discuss with you." He motions for his men to leave the room and they do so.

Gwen looks on at her father intently.

"As you know, you will be coming of age soon."

She nods. She is constantly reminded by this fact.

"And I know that we have never fully discussed it before, but women in your position are always expected to be married not long after."

"Oh," came her surprised reply. She'd always known that she would marry and suspected that it would be soon. She just always hoped that 'soon' would be when she was turning grey and had enjoyed her life as much as possible before she did so. "Does that mean you want to discuss who it is I should be marrying?"

They both know that that person will be Lancelot. Even when she was younger and he was not yet a knight, she always knew that she would marry him, even if nothing was ever said on the matter.

He shakes his head. "We will discuss it nearer the time. I just want you to know what is expected of you and that I wish that _I _could relieve _you _of your burden."

She looks at him in confusion. "Father?"

He smiles. "Many noble men from all over the kingdom will hear of your coming of age and will be swarming to Camelot, vying for your hand. You'll be fighting them off with sticks, Guinevere!"

She laughs. "Many women would die for that honour."

"And what about you, Guinevere?"

"I just want to do what makes you happy, Father," she tells him solemnly, placing a kiss on his hand.

* * *

After her talk with her father, Gwen heads to Morgana's drawing room to chat to her about her father's news, but is surprised to find Lancelot deep in conversation with her.

"Gwen!" Morgana greets with that familiar cat-like grin as she lounged in her chair. "Look who has been sitting here, waiting for you to return."

Gwen glances at Lancelot, sitting in the chair beside her.

"Lancelot," she says in surprise. "I didn't expect to find you here."

"I finished training early tonight. I thought I might surprise you and walk to your chambers."

She smiles. "How thoughtful of you."

"Where have you been, Gwen?" Morgana asks. "You've been gone a long while."

Gwen shrugs. "I've been picking flowers and talking to my father. Not much."

Morgana nods, not questioning her, but she can't help but notice that Lancelot is looking suspiciously at her untidy form.

She stifles a yawn. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I'm feeling rather tired. I think I might retire to bed," she tells them both.

Immediately Lancelot stands up to escort her and Morgana gives her a reassuring look.

"It s fine, Gwen. I will talk to you in the morning. Good night, my lady. Lancelot."

"Thank you. And good night, Morgana," Gwen says.

"Good night, Morgana," Lancelot echoes.

Lancelot accompanies her to chambers, and during the while she questions him about his day. He tells her all about his knights and their progress and she listens intently. When they reach her door, he places a kiss on her cheek, and she smiles as she looks on at his retreating figure.

As she lay in bed that night, she thinks about the events of her day. She thinks about Arthur and the thrill of fighting with him. Those thoughts soon shift to the words her father spoke, and her heart fills with worry as she thinks about the troubles that lay ahead for her. Lastly, she thinks about Lancelot and the comfort his familiar presence brings. Like she has tried to before, she imagines what it might be like to be married to him, but can't seem to conjure it up in her head.

When she falls asleep that night, she has a terrible nightmare that she is married to him, but instead of her being by his side, he keeps her in the top of the tower where she can't escape.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Blacksmith's Son- Chapter Five**

**Chapter**: 5/?  
**Rating**: PG  
**Pairings: **Arthur/Gwen, Gwen/Lancelot, Merlin/Arthur BFFness  
**Disclaimer/references:** Merlin does not belong to me. If you squint and close an eye, you'll see that some scenes are vaguely based on events in canon.

**Summary**: He has the hands of a blacksmith but a heart of a prince- if only she could see that. AU fic, in which Arthur is the blacksmith's son and Gwen a princess- because being epic means being two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that fits, even when the colours have changed.

**A/N: **Many thanks to lovedbyahero for the beta. Also, many thanks to everyone who has commented. The range of thoughts and ideas this fic has elicited is astounding and I really do love hearing from you.

* * *

Gwen sat down in front of her dresser and began to remove the clips from her hair. Strands of her hair fell down as she removed each clip and she took each strand, twirling them in contemplation. Once her hair was completely free, she examined her reflection. There she saw a girl with long, black, curly hair, warm brown eyes and copper coloured skin. She saw nothing that implied that there was anything special about her, yet when she tilted her head slightly, she could almost see the woman she was set to be. The future queen.

Gwen laughed and watched her face crinkle with amusement.

That notion was entirely ridiculous, at least to her.

She couldn't see how she could be queen; didn't want to see. Being queen meant letting go of her father and Gwen never wanted that day to happen. In her eyes, her father was the perfect ruler for Camelot, even if some of his ideals were flawed. She could never replace that and she hoped never to have to.

Besides, what kind of queen would she be?

She tilts her head to the left. A flawed one, perhaps. Maybe one who was constantly criticised. Or maybe she would be hated by all her people.

She tilts her head back to the right. Maybe she would be a benevolent ruler; one that was loved across the entire kingdom. Perhaps she would be the person who would come up with all the right answers to Camelot's problems. She would also be respected for her thoughts and her inner strength.

_Or maybe, _she thinks, _I'll just run away and become a pagan warrior- queen of a forest. Father would be so happy._

Gwen sighed. In the end it didn't really matter what kind of queen she would become. What mattered to Camelot was the person she would marry and what kind of ruler he would be.

xxx

A couple of months had passed since Gwen's first fighting lesson with Arthur and in that time she had bettered her skills with him, as well as forming a fledging friendship with him. Apart from a few servants from the castle and of course, Gaius, Gwen hadn't known many people who weren't of noble blood. Gwen doesn't carry the same prejudices against people who weren't noble as some people she knew, and yet being in the presence of Arthur is a completely different experience from being around someone from court. For starters, Arthur is incredibly down-to-earth. He carries no false pretences and never tries to treat her exceptionally different because of who she is. He is courteous, of course, but she is certain he treats everybody like that.

She thinks him a good teacher. He's patient and meticulous in his lessons, but she likes it best when he makes her laugh, which is often. Her favourite part of their meeting is when they collapse on the ground in exhaustion; the two of them just sitting there, staring up at the sky and talking. For two people so different, she's surprised at how much they have to talk about.

With him, she's allowed to be who she wants to be. She can be strong and determined; un-ladylike and unassuming. She can curse without having to worry about who hears her; can talk about what she wants without the fear of it being gossiped about. Out in the woods, she can be free and unbridled.

Heart pouring to the sky after each lesson, she thinks, _This is what it feels like to come alive._

* * *

Sometimes, Gwen briefly visits him in the workshop unexpectedly, but he never complains. She never has much of a reason for doing so, just that she is passing by and she thought she'd pop in and have a chat, and really, how can he fault her for that?

When she does come in, she perches on any available space and talks to him as he works at the workbench. Usually, she talks about her day or asks about his, although recently she's discovered the stalls surrounding the workshop and comes in gushing about the most extraordinary thing she's purchased and he will look on and laugh. Her presence is both calming and delightful, although sometimes he finds it hard to concentrate on his work; his mind too focused on her.

Today, she comes bounding into the store; a small basket in her hands.

He looks up and grins. "Hello, Gwen."

"Hello, Arthur." She extends the basket in his general direction. "I brought you some apples," she declares.

He raises an eyebrow. "Some apples?"

She nods. "Yes. I bought them from a nearby stall." She lifts out an apple. "They're not exactly castle-quality, but the stall-keeper said they're good."

He beams. "How very nutritious of you," he quips, taking the basket off her. She looks at him in anticipation and he playfully rolls his eyes, taking out an apple.

"It's not poisoned, is it?" he inquires.

"I'm not a witch in disguise who wants you to fall into a stupor, if that's what you're wondering."

"So the apple isn't poisonous?" he clarifies.

She shrugs, playfully.

He takes a bite.

"Well?" she says. "How is it?"

"I don't feel any kind of stupor coming on," he muses.

"Really? How disappointing," she says with a grin.

"It's good," he finally says. "Thank you, Gwen, for bringing me some apples."

She smiles again and sits on a smaller workbench in the corner. "I thought you might like some. Apples are the gold of food."

"I'll take your word for it. Would you like one?"

She nods and he throws her one, which she catches.

She takes a bite. "These aren't too bad," she decides.

He sets his apple down and continues working on a sword.

She cranes her head. "What are you working on?"

"A new sword for Sir Leon."

She stood up again and came to have a look.

She took another bite of her apple and peered over.

"I've just forged it," he tells her. "It makes it malleable. Now I'm just beating it into shape, which will take a while. Afterwards, the finishing process starts."

"The whole process sounds incredible."

"I prefer to describe it as tedious," he tells her.

She smiles and goes back to sitting where she was. He reverts his attention back to his weapon, but can hear her munching away on her apple. Every now and then he will look up, only to find her looking on, entranced.

"You look like you want to trade places," he says after a while.

She laughs. "I would make a terrible blacksmith," she declares.

"That's a shame. Because I think that I would make a wonderful princess."

She laughs again at the image. "But you might stretch out my dresses."

"True," he muses. "We can't have that."

The door opens and Merlin comes bustling in.

"Hey, Arthur, I-," his voice trails off as he notices Gwen sitting in the corner. "Lady Guinevere," he says, surprised.

Gwen smiles. "You're Gaius' assistant," she states.

Arthur never thought he'd see the day when Merlin became shy, yet here his friend was; eyes cast firmly to the ground and the tips of his ears red. Arthur snorts. Merlin always said he never fancied the princess.

Merlin nods. "I've delivered medicine to you," he mumbles.

"So you have," she muses. "It's nice to properly meet you...?"

"Merlin," Merlin finishes for her.

"Merlin." She smiles again.

Merlin looks at her face. "It's nice to properly meet you too, my lady."

"Please, call me Gwen."

Merlin's eyes widen. "Really?"

"You won't get blighted, I promise."

Merlin smiles and goes over and sits near her. Arthur listens to their general chit-chat as he works; the sound of his hammer not blocking out their voices.

"I hear Arthur is teaching you how to sword fight," Merlin says, having seemingly got over his initial shyness.

"Yes, he is," she informs him.

"Are you enjoying it?"

"I love it," she enthuses. "I love being able to fight."

"I wish I could say the same."

"Not much of a fighter?"

Both Arthur and Merlin snort.

"Let's just say that if we were at war and all men had to fight, then you better hope that I'm not on your side."

Gwen laughs. "You can't be that bad."

"Oh, you have no idea," Merlin muses. "But I think it's great that you're a fighter. I thought princesses stayed in castles and composed tapestry."

Arthur rolls his eyes at Merlin's words.

"Oh, that's not all we do. Sometimes we compose tapestry and _sing_."

"Outrageous!"

Gwen casts her gaze outside the window and sighs. "I better be getting back. It's getting late and my father will be wondering where I am," she says. "Listen; tomorrow evening there will be a ball at the castle."

Merlin nods. He's heard of the ball. A lot of suitors from Camelot and other neighbouring kingdoms would be coming, trying to vie for Gwen's hand. The ball had been the most talked about event for a while.

"Anyway," Gwen carries on, "I'd be honoured if both of you came."

Merlin gives her an incredulous look. "But we're both servants."

"No, you're people of Camelot whose presence would be greatly appreciated."

Merlin hesitates. "Are you sure your father won't mind us being there?"

"There will be so many people there that I doubt he'll notice."

"Oh. Well...maybe. I mean, sure. Yes. We will be there. Thank you."

Gwen stands up and smiles. "Then I look forward to seeing you," she tells him. "Goodbye, Merlin."

"Goodbye my la-, I mean, Gwen."

"Goodbye, Arthur."

It was Arthur's turn to smile. "Goodbye, Gwen."

Merlin watches as she leaves.

"Your jaw is hanging open," Arthur informs him.

Merlin shuts it and swallows. "I finally see what you like about her," he says. "She's great!"

Arthur laughs. "You've only just realised that?"

"I never really got the chance to find out." Merlin straightens up. "So this ball thing. Are you going?"

Arthur puts down his hammer and contemplates. "We'd look extremely out of place."

"There'll be lots of people there. We'd probably go unnoticed."

"And what would we do? Dance around and pretend like we belong amongst them?"

Merlin shrugs. "It would be nice to pretend to know what it feels like to live on the other side and not to be on the periphery, serving their every whim. Besides, I thought you'd like the excuse to be in the same room as Gwen."

Arthur gave him a dark look. "You make me sound like some love-sick puppy."

"Well, you are! "

"Thanks, Merlin."

"At least think about it."

Arthur rolls his eyes. "Okay. I'll _think _about it."

* * *

Gwen stands as her handmaiden ties up the ribbons on the back of her dress. She's been dreading this day ever since her father had mentioned such a thing almost two months ago. The idea of a group of men competing for her affections made her feel nauseous. She knows Morgana would be deeply disappointed in her if she found out; an army of men eating out of her hand was her idea of heaven. But Gwen isn't like that. She doesn't crave a vast amount of attention and unlike Morgana, she has no idea how to use her feminine attributes to garner male interest.

The point of the ball seems useless to Gwen. Since she is almost certain that none of the men travelling to meet her will be her future husband, it seemed such a waste to draw them all together. But she knows the suitors would be deeply offended if she didn't so much as offer a chance with them, and so to keep all relations cordial, she consents to this ball.

She hears the sound of approaching footsteps and turns her head, only to find Morgana behind her.

Dressed in a beautiful dark green gown and hair flowing, she dismisses Gwen's handmaiden and finishes tying the ribbons on her dress.

"Hello Morgana," Gwen greets.

"I thought I'd come and see how you are," Morgana says. "Nervous?"

"More like extremely queasy. You don't think that we could swap places, do you? They don't know what I look like. And look at you! You look stunning! More like a princess than I do."

Morgana snorts. "That's ridiculous and you know it. You look wonderful, Gwen. And while I wouldn't normally say no to having a room full of men lavishing attention on me, I'm going to have to make an exception on this one. But don't worry; I will be picking up off of the floor all the good-looking ones you've rejected."

"Only to throw them back down a few seconds later," Gwen mutters.

"It wouldn't be fun if I didn't." Morgana finishes lacing up Gwen's dress and turns her around to face her.

Morgana smiles at her.

"How do I look?" Gwen asks, uncertainly.

"Like you're going to step into a ballroom and break the heart of every single and available man there."

"Just like I've always wanted." Gwen emits another sigh. "I guess we better be heading off then."

Morgana links her arm in hers. "Oh Gwen, you make it sound like you're off to a funeral."

* * *

When Morgana and Gwen step into the great hall, they are greeted by the sight of a room full of people; many of them men. Everybody stops and looks at them and silence descends upon the room.

Gwen manages a quivering smile, and makes her way up to the platform to join her father. Her father thanks the people for coming and then introduces her to them. Everyone watches; their gaze fixed firmly on her, and it makes her a little more nervous.

_How many people are here? _She wonders. _A few dozen? A hundred?_

She's used to being in a room full of people, but she's not used to everyone in that room staring her, as if waiting for her to do something amazing.

Gwen sits down for the feast, but has trouble eating with everyone continuing to stare at her. After what seems like an eternity, the meal is finally over.

But then the dancing starts.

It's as if the ball has suddenly turned into a hunt and she's become the wild boar everyone is hunting. Men flock to her; rushing to be the first one to dance with her.

Luckily, Lancelot gets there first.

"You look like you're having the time of your life," he muses, as they begin to dance.

"The best," she manages to say.

He looks down at her and smiles. "Well, if it's any consolation, you look beautiful tonight."

She smiles back. "Thanks, Lancelot. You don't look too bad yourself."

"I imagine all this must be stressful for you."

"You have no idea! I have to dance with all these men!"

Lancelot laughs. "You are the envy of all women and yet you hate the position they yearn to be in."

"Oh believe me; I'd gladly relinquish my position. Look at these men, Lancelot!"

Lancelot turns his head and notes the men all looking at Gwen; a sort of hungry expression on their faces.

He squeezes her hand. "You must stay strong, Guinevere," he says in a teasing voice.

"Why thank you, Lancelot. When, in a few dances time, I get so sick of dancing that I declare to marry whichever man I'm dancing with, I will think of you and your words."

* * *

"Who knew that under all that dirt and scruffiness, lay _that_?" Merlin exclaims, gesturing to Arthur. "You don't look too bad," he muses.

Arthur raises an eyebrow. "Thank you, Merlin. You look...presentable yourself."

Arthur had managed to find something decent to wear to the ball. He'd found a red jacket with gold beads that belonged to his father, as well as a black undershirt and trousers. He doesn't exactly look like he is made of gold, but at the same time he doesn't look like a servant. Merlin also looks like he's made an effort, even if his version of making an effort is making an old shirt look cleaner and brighter.

The two of them stand at the edge, just like they always do, except this time they aren't expected to wait on people, which is a relief. They watch on as Gwen stands uncomfortably on the platform as her father presents her, and then see her as she eats her dinner and observe her as she dances with potential suitor after potential suitor. All in all, Arthur has never seen Gwen look more uncomfortable and it would be amusing if it isn't for the fact that it's Gwen enduring it all.

She looks exhausted and yet she keeps on going. After what seems like an eternity, she finishes dancing with all the men, and Arthur breathes out a sigh of relief for her. He watches as she grabs a drink and casts her gaze around the room. Her gaze lands on his and she smiles when she sees him. Waving slightly, she begins to make her way over.

"You came!" she cries, greeting both of them.

"Of course we did," he answers. "We wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Thank you," she says.

Merlin looks at the two of them, smiles and makes his excuses and leaves.

"You look beautiful," he tells her, even though he's sure she's heard it enough times. But she really does. In her long, turquoise and gold dress, she sets the room on fire.

She smiles. "You look handsome yourself," she says, tugging at his red jacket.

"It happens, sometimes," he muses.

"Would you care to dance?" she asks.

"Are you not sick of dancing, my lady?"

She laughs. "Absolutely! But I'm sure I can handle a dance more or two. It would be a shame for you to come here and not dance."

"But I can't dance," he protests.

"It's okay, I'll show you how." She leads him out onto the dance floor. She lifts up her right hand. "Place your left hand on mine," she instructs. He does as he's told. "Now turn." He follows. She places her left hand up. "Now do the same but with your other hand." He follows again. "There, see? You've got it."

He grins, and continues the movements. "So how have the suitors been?"

"Awful. Many have trod on my feet. Others make the worst conversationalists. A few have smelt and some have been downright leery."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's okay. I've survived."

They smile at one another.

The music changes to a different tune, but Gwen finds herself still dancing with Arthur. The music calls for a more intimate position, and Gwen automatically steps in closer to him, instructing him on how to move.

Once she finishes telling him, she looks up into his face. She realises then that she's never had the chance to look at him properly. When she's sword-fighting with him, she's far too busy concentrating on his words and tactics that she's never taken the chance to examine him; when she goes to see him at the workshop, she's too busy concentrating on what he's saying or doing.

But now she is able to look upon him without interruption: he's handsome, that she's always known, but in his smart attire he looks incredibly so. He has blazing blues eyes; the kind that are filled with a quiet intensity, enough to unnerve even the strongest of wills. His build is strong and sturdy; the sort of type to make any woman weak at the knees, and it makes her so, even if only a little. Being in the arms of this man she knows well in some aspects but in others none at all, is a strange sensation, but not an unwelcome one.

When their dance has almost come to an end, Arthur finally picks up his concentrated gaze from the floor and meets hers. He smiles, and Gwen is surprised when something unfamiliar jolts through her veins.

* * *

Arthur watches from the sidelines as Gwen dances with Merlin. He laughs every time Merlin nearly steps on Gwen's feet and the way he tries his hardest to follow the dance.

Arthur's still on a high from dancing with Gwen. When he came to the ball, it never crossed his mind that he would get the chance to dance with her and doing so makes him feel richer in spirit than any king in the land. He's not the dancing type, but he loved holding her in his arms; loved the fit of her smooth palm against his rough and calloused one.

A voice interrupts his train of thoughts. "I didn't realise that peasants were allowed in here."

Arthur turns his head, only to find Lancelot looking at him with a scowl.

"What are you doing here?" Lancelot demands.

Arthur shrugs, nonchalantly. "I was invited."

"Oh really? By whom?"

"By Lady Guinevere."

"As if she knows who you are!" Lancelot exclaims.

"Did you not see her dancing with me, just now?"

"You could have told her that you were a nobleman from another kingdom."

"Guinevere is much too smart to believe that."

"Then how does she know you?"

"She makes a point of getting to know us mere peasants. It's a new thing she's trying out," Arthur drawls.

Lancelot narrows his eyes. "I saw the way you were looking at her," he says, accusingly.

Arthur raises an eyebrow. "Oh really? And how was I looking at her?"

"_Longingly._" Lancelot began to laugh with ridicule. "You fool! As if Guinevere would give someone like you a second look! You're nothing to her."

Arthur found his jaw tightening, but says nothing.

"You can pine and want her all you like. You can chat to her and yearn for her to feel the same way. You can desire her and cherish her as much as you like, but the thing is, she's _mine. _And if I were you, I'd remember that." Lancelot walks off, leaving Arthur quivering with anger.

Arthur turns his gaze back to Gwen and Merlin, but can't get Lancelot's words out of his head.

_You're nothing to her._

As much as Arthur wants to deny it, it's true. They may be friends and they may be closer than he ever expected, but he's fooling himself if he believes that they could ever be anything more. Dancing with her offered a ray of hope and for a moment, he had allowed himself to believe that somehow, he'd find a way to be with her. But Lancelot's words had brought him back to reality.

Men like Lancelot will always get in the way of people like him. It doesn't matter how foul or vile the likes of Lancelot are, to people like Guinevere, they'll never get the chance to see them for who they really are. And likewise, she'll never get to see the Arthur for who he really is.

All the little shreds of hope that had been building within him since their friendship started, shatters, leaving behind only broken pieces.

From across the hall, Gwen's gaze meets his and she smiles.

Yet he can't bring himself to smile back.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Blacksmith's Son- Chapter Six**

**Chapter**: 6/?  
**Rating**: PG  
**Pairings: **Arthur/Gwen, Gwen/Lancelot, Merlin/Arthur BFFness  
**Disclaimer/references:** Merlin does not belong to me. If you squint and close an eye, you'll see that some scenes are vaguely based on events in canon. There's also a not-so-very-subtle Shrek reference in this chapter.

**Summary**: He has the hands of a blacksmith but a heart of a prince- if only she could see that. AU fic, in which Arthur is the blacksmith's son and Gwen a princess- because being epic means being two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that fits, even when the colours have changed.

A/N: Thanks to lovedbyahero over on lj for the beta. As always, comments appreciated.

* * *

The days pass and Arthur watches as potential suitor after potential suitor heads back home. Most of them know that the ball is the closest they'll ever get to Gwen and some are happy just to get the chance to dance with her; others can't stop from turning their heads in the direction of the castle as they head back, wishing and yearning. Whether they're besotted with the idea of being married to the future queen of Camelot or the princess herself, he's not sure. All he knows is that they'll never see her the way he sees her; will never understand her like he does. And yet,_ he's_ the one envious of _them _for being in the position to be a contender for her affections.

In a few weeks time, King Thomas will make an official announcement of which suitor is to marry his daughter and Arthur dreads this day with a heavy heart. Soon, the time will come when she will marry Lancelot (or whichever lucky fool) and he will have to give up his precious time with her. A princess telling her father that she is becoming acquainted with the townspeople (as she has been wont to say lately) when she is really learning how to sword fight is one thing; to do so as a married woman is venturing into dangerous territory.

He knows that giving up Gwen as a friend will be extremely hard.

Having to stop pretending that, for an hour or so each week she is his, will be even more so.

* * *

The first session after the ball, Arthur decides to bring Merlin along to help out. He figures that it would be nice for Gwen to fight someone different for a change, as well as the fact that Merlin's presence will help mask the recent awkwardness Arthur feels towards Gwen.

Although initially enthusiastic at the prospect of helping out Gwen, when Merlin sees what that entails, his happy demeanour fades. Padded out to the max, he stands in front of the princess with a sword in his hand, looking like a scarecrow in a field.

"Relax, Merlin," Gwen tells him teasingly. "I'm not going to kill you."

Merlin hesitates. "Is that a promise?"

Arthur laughs and Gwen throws Merlin an admonishing glance.

"Now Merlin, I want you to block Gwen's moves, is that understood? You don't have to fight back or anything." He gives his friend a concerned look. "Do you think you can handle that?"

"I'm not a fragile butterfly!" Merlin insisted.

"That's good to hear, Merlin," Gwen muses.

Arthur watches on as the two begin to fight. Gwen raises her sword to Merlin and he quite clumsily parries her. Rather like his dancing, his moves are uncertain and awkward, but he handles it in that typical way of his. It takes a great deal of strength on Merlin's part to keep up the fighting and hardly any on Gwen's. Despite the fact that Merlin is hardly an expert in sword fighting, Arthur can tell Gwen is enjoying it immensely and Merlin a little.

A few minutes later, a slight inflection of Gwen's sword causes Merlin to go flying to the ground.

He lands with a resonating "_Oof_" and hits his head hard on the ground.

Gwen winces and Arthur walks over.

"Are you alright, Merlin?" he inquires.

Merlin lets out a long groan. "Can I go home?" he demands, rubbing his head.

Arthur rolls his eyes. "Fine."

"I'm sorry Merlin," Gwen says. "But thank you for your help."

Merlin smiles. "It was no problem, really," he reassures her. And Arthur can almost hear his, "_For you pretty princess, I'd do _anything."

He watches as his friend walks off and then the realisation that it's just him and Gwen hits him. A sneaky glance at her shows that she has her hands clasped in front of her and is waiting patiently for him to instruct her. How, he wonders, is he to pretend that being around her has no affect on him? Her presence is immensely gratifying, but at the same time it's like having the most irresistible fruit dangled in front of him and not being able to have it.

But, as always, he puts a smile on his face and suggests the two of them practise fighting. Moments later, the two of them are deep in combat; their fighting peppered with the usual good-natured bantering and for a while he is able to forget the sour note of the ball, her pending engagement and the fact that they're separated vastly by class and status.

A while later she catches him unawares, applying unexpected pressure to her attack and like Merlin before him, Arthur goes flying to the ground.

Sitting up slightly, he raises his eyebrows and says, "You've improved."

"No," she muses, extending her hand out to him. "You've just got worse."

* * *

They sit together on the ground and peer up at the sky between the trees, exhausted.

She turns to him. "I enjoyed that," she informs him.

"Oh, I bet you did."

She laughs and bows her head.

After a few moments she lifts her face to look at him. His head is bent down and he's picking at the soil on the ground. It hasn't passed her attention that since the ball, Arthur has seemed rather subdued and she's uncertain as to why.

Hesitating, she asks, "Did you enjoy the ball, Arthur?"

His gaze meets hers and she watches as his eyes blaze ever so slightly. "I enjoyed certain parts, yes. Other parts...not so much."

"I'm sorry if it wasn't completely enjoyable."

"It's not your fault. It's just that those kinds of events are like a completely different world for me. It's hard to place myself there."

"Well, for what it's worth, I'm really glad you came. Dancing with you was definitely a highlight."

"You don't mean that."

"Oh, I do. You're one of the only people who didn't tread on my feet," she says with a grin.

He smiles back.

"So," he begins, "I guess you have the enviable task of choosing which suitor you like best."

She snorts. "Enviable is not the word I would choose to describe it."

"The _enjoyable _task then," he says. "I do hope Sir Henry of Balor is a strong contender."

"Sir Henry of Balor!" she exclaims. "The man is twice my age!"

"But he has a great beard," he tells her. "You know, if you disregard the grey around the edges-,"

"And the morsels of food in it," she adds.

He wrinkles his nose. "Really?"

"Oh yes. Believe me; I was standing in front of him. I _saw._"

"How about that Sir Telemachus of wherever? He came across as interesting."

"He definitely falls into the overwhelming category. He was a nice man, just a little bit too _much _for my liking."

"Well, what about Lord Farquaad of Duloc? He seemed quite charming."

"He was also incredibly short."

"That shouldn't be a problem."

"Oh really, well, if you think so, why don't you marry him?"

"I asked, but he didn't want me. He only had eyes for you."

She throws him a mock withering look and watches as his expression grows serious.

"I suppose you'll be marrying Lancelot," he says in contemplation.

She nods slowly and for some reason it feels odd telling him. "It's not definite, but it's more than likely."

He nods back; the expression on his face unreadable.

"Gwen?" he says after a while.

"Yes?"

"I think you can do better than Lancelot."

She looks at him in surprise. "What?"

He flushes. "What I mean is that Lancelot is brash and strident. You need someone who takes the time to listen and who understands you."

Their gazes lock. She sees the earnestness in his eyes, but also a slight edge of despair.

He sees a tinge of confusion in hers.

"And who do you propose?" she asks, her voice quiet and uncertain.

He shrugs. "Anyone- any suitor. So long as it's not Lancelot. In fact, how about Sir Peter of Mercia? I know he smelt, but he seemed incredibly grounded. Had a good sense of humour too. I'm sure if you made him bathe daily or twice daily, he'd be worthy of your affections..."

Her eyes search his face. "Why do you care so much?" she inquires; voice still incredibly soft.

His eyes blaze again with sheer emotion. "Because I-," he begins and then stops what he's saying. As if changing his mind to what he was saying, he answers, "Because I just want to see you happy and I'm not sure if Lancelot can give you that."

She doesn't know how to respond to his words. "Lancelot is a good man," she says eventually. "And I'm sure he'd try to make me happy." Her gaze falls back down to the ground. "Even if he didn't, my happiness isn't important; Camelot's happiness is."

"That's not how it should be," he protests.

She lifts her head again and smiles on at him. "It's the price of being a princess."

By an unconscious mutual decision, they decide their time is up and both stand up to leave.

"Thank you for today, Arthur," she says to him, handing back her sword.

"Anytime, Guinevere," he tells her, smiling, although it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Their hands brush as she passes the sword to him, and it doesn't go unnoticed by either that their touch lingers a moment longer than it should.

xxx

From her window, Gwen watches on as the knights of Camelot practise fighting. Arthur's words spin around in her head and she can't help but analyse and over-analyse them.

_Lancelot is brash and strident. You need someone who takes the time to listen and who understands you._

Although Gwen had never really noticed it before, it is true that Lancelot is these things. He craves attention, particularly from the people of Camelot, and loves nothing more than competing in tournaments to the adulation of the crowd. Although attentive to her, Lancelot seldom asks how she is or tries to understand her views.

And the one thing she can't get out of her head is the pained expression of Arthur as he told her she could do better. His despair and the depth of the emotion in his eyes, what did it mean?

She didn't seem to know.

From behind her she hears footsteps and knows immediately that it is Morgana.

"Spying on the knights again, are we Gwen?" she asks as she comes to join her side.

"Oh please. I wouldn't dare encroach on your favourite pastime."

Morgana follows Gwen's gaze to Lancelot and smirks.

"So you've made up your mind, you're choosing Lancelot?"

"I'm not sure," Gwen confesses.

Morgana looks at her in shock. "But you've been dreaming of this day since you were little!"

Gwen frowns. _But have I? _She wonders. _Or have I been dreaming of this day because it's all I ever knew?_

"Do you think I'll be doing the right think if I choose to marry Lancelot?" she demands.

Morgana thinks about this. "Lancelot is a fine man," she decides. "He's charming, smart and a good warrior. He'd be a worthy companion to rule Camelot with."

"But is he the right man for me?" she wonders. "Because quite frankly, Morgana, it just sounded like you just reeled off the missing ingredients in a spell to make someone plaintively boring."

"I never thought I'd hear such words from you, Gwen," Morgana says with a laugh, before adding more seriously, "You're the only one who can decide who is best for you."

Gwen sighs. "If only it were that simple."

Morgana gives her a consolatory pat on the shoulder, before making her way out.

"Oh and Gwen?" she says stopping halfway.

Gwen turns to face her.

"I know that you're not out talking to the townspeople when you say you are," she announces. "Word is that you're spending an awful lot of time with the blacksmith's son."

Gwen's eyes widen at Morgana's words. But of course, if anyone were to find out her secret, it would be Morgana.

"We're not doing anything tawdry," she defends. "He's just teaching me how to swordfight that's all. Ever since my kidnap, it's something I felt I needed to do."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Morgana demands.

"Because I didn't think you'd understand," she replies. "Or that you'd try and persuade Lancelot to teach me instead and he would have just refused."

Morgana shakes her head. "I wouldn't have, Gwen."

Gwen smiles. "I know and I'm sorry for thinking so."

"It's okay. Just make sure that it's only sword-fighting between him and you. If your father found out-,"

"He'd skin me alive," she finishes for her. "But really, it's just sword-fighting and he's just a friend."

Morgana gives her an analytical look that makes her think she doesn't believe her, before turning to leave.

"Good evening, Gwen," she says finally.

"Good evening, Morgana," she says and watches as Morgana departs, leaving her with a heavy heart.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Blacksmith's Son- Chapter Seven**

**Chapter**: 7/?  
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairings**: Arthur/Gwen, Gwen/Lancelot, Merlin/Arthur BFFness  
**Disclaimer/references:** Merlin does not belong to me.

The near-to-end part of this is slightly based on a scene from The Office (US.)

**Summary**: He has the hands of a blacksmith but a heart of a prince- if only she could see that. AU fic, in which Arthur is the blacksmith's son and Gwen a princess- because being epic means being two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that fits, even when the colours have changed.

**A/N:** Thanks to lovedbyahero for her beta.

This chapter comes with a major angst warning.

* * *

Gwen knows she is running on borrowed time.

The fact that Morgana knows about her secret suggests that everyone else will not be far behind, and she can just imagine what people would be saying. No doubt there would be gossip that she and Arthur are having a torrid affair and the thought of this reaching her father or Lancelot scares her. And though she knows nothing of the sort is happening to between them, she also knows that the time has come for her to stop meeting Arthur like this. As much as she yearns for their meetings to continue, she also knows that it is wrong for a soon-to-be married woman of her status to associate with a man she is not set to marry.

The idea of ending their alliance fills her with a sadness that she cannot describe, and she spends restless nights worrying about it. One night when she cannot sleep, she goes over to her window. A smile graces her lips when she sees Arthur outside practising.

_How far we've come since I first saw him practising out here, _she thinks to herself. She barely knew him then, and now...

_And now what? _She wonders. Arthur is the man who teaches her how to fight like a warrior, the person who makes her laugh effortlessly and one of the only people she can talk to with extreme ease. He treats her like an equal and she looks forward to his company more than anything in the week. She can describe him as a good friend, yet it doesn't seem enough.

She watches on as he glides his sword under the moonlight, oblivious to being watched. His movements could be mistaken for that of a knight's, and it makes her a little sad that his talents alone are not enough to make him one.

For a moment, Arthur puts down his sword and looks up blindly at the castle and she knows he is looking up in her direction. But in the darkness, he doesn't spot her there. Despite this, he still smiles in a pensive way, before turning and heading off.

She watches him retreat and all she can think about is how much she doesn't want them to revert back to existing in their separate worlds.

* * *

The next day, she heads to the kitchens and gathers a small basketful of apples. Afterwards, she goes off to see Arthur in his workshop.

When she gets there, she is surprised to find that Arthur is not alone.

Working alongside him is Arthur's father. They both turn to look at her as Gwen enters the workshop and she stands there, uncertain as to what to do. She never met Arthur's father before which she considers ironic as he was the one she initially sought to make her sword.

It's strange seeing him. There's a touch of resemblance between father and son, but other than that, they couldn't be more different. Whereas Arthur is open and laid-back, she can tell this is not true of Uther. By his stance she can tell, he is guarded and cautious, and the harsh lines of age etched on his face extend to his soul. But there is no mistaking the fact that though he is a blacksmith, he still carries the stance of a knight.

_This is a man who has experienced the worst life has to offer, _she thinks, and hopes that Arthur does not become the same.

Putting down the tool in his hand, Arthur clears his throat. "Father, this is the Lady Guinevere. She asked me to make her a sword for her and we have been good friends since."

Uther scrutinises her, but she has no clue to what he might be thinking of her. After what seems like an eternity, he extends his hand for hers.

"It's nice to meet you, Lady Guinevere," he says, placing a kiss on her hand.

"It's nice to meet you too, Mister Pendragon."

He looks at her inquiringly and it dawns on her that he's wondering why she is here. "I've come to see Arthur, that is, if it's okay."

"Is it okay if we go to the house, Father?" Arthur asks.

Uther thinks about this and nods. "Don't be long," he tells his son, before turning back to his work.

* * *

Gwen walks alongside him on the short journey to his house.

"I didn't realise your father was back," she muses. "I've never seen him before."

"He's often away for long periods of time, scouring materials for the business. He's back, but I don't know how long for."

"Oh," is all she says.

There's something slightly reserved about Gwen's behaviour and he wonders what she's suppressing. Before he gets the chance to ask, they arrive at his house.

He's slightly cautious about showing her the meagre contents of his house, but Gwen hardly seems to notice her surroundings. Instead, she stands in the doorway, clutching nervously at the basket in her hands.

"Are you okay, Gwen?" he inquires in concern.

She throws him a smile. "Fine," she says. But it doesn't hide her distractedness. "I've brought you some apples," she tells him instead. "They were grown in the royal gardens, so they should be above par."

He takes them from her hands. "It's like you're trying to tell me that I don't eat well," he tells her teasingly. "Thank you for these."

"You're welcome."

Arthur exhales deeply. "Are you hungry, Gwen? I could cook us some lunch."

"That would be lovely."

Arthur motions for her to sit down at the table and she does as she's told.

She looks around at the house which surely couldn't be bigger than her own room.

"You have a nice place," she informs him.

Arthur snorts. "I do not believe you mean that," he says as he gathers some food to prepare.

"I do indeed!" she protests. "I think your place quite quaint."

He looks at her and rolls his eyes. "Your definition of quaint differs substantially from mine."

She laughs and watches him as he cooks. After a while she says, "So are you a good cook, Arthur?"

He shrugs. "I'll let you pass judgement on that one."

She nods with a smile and continues to watch him as he adds one ingredient and another to his cooking pot. Allowing the mixture to simmer for a while, he comes to sit in front of her.

"So what have you been up to, Gwen?" he asks.

She sighs. "The usual."

"Talks about weddings?"

She nods.

"You'll get through it," he assures her.

"I'd rather it not happen at all," she answers with another sigh. Changing the topic she asks, "How's Merlin?"

Arthur considers this. "His usual, clumsy self. He accidentally dropped some vials over the dressmaker yesterday. She ended up turning purple."

Gwen laughs. "I like Merlin. He's a nice man."

"And a very good friend," Arthur replies pensively. He stands up and heads for the stove. Checking to see whether the food is done, he pours the contents of the pot into two separate bowls and places them on the table. He also reaches for some bread rolls and walks over with them.

Gwen inhales. "It smells nice," she tells him.

"It's only some stew," he replies. "Nothing extraordinary, I'm afraid."

She takes a bite and her eyes widen. "Arthur, this is delicious!" she cries.

He beams. "You think so?"

"I love it," she says.

"What can I say? I'm a blacksmith as well as a cook."

"And a man obviously good with his hands," she surmises, before blushing at the connotations of her words.

He grins, and they eat the rest of their meal in content silence.

When she's finished eating, Gwen says, "Thank you, Arthur. That was lovely."

"It was my pleasure," he answers, and he's glad to see that she's brightened up a little.

He fetches them both an apple, which they both eat as they talk amicably.

Finally, the time comes for her to leave.

Gwen stands up and Arthur does the same, following her to the door.

She turns to face him and that sadness about her returns.

Although neither one says it, he knows that from henceforth, there will be no more lessons and no more visits to the workshop.

Instead she says, "Thank you for the last few months, Arthur. My time with you has truly been the best moments of my life."

He smiles, although it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Anytime," he tells her.

"I'll guess I'll see you about?" Her words are more of a question than a statement.

"I hope so," he replies.

She looks at him uncertainly, not knowing what to do. Finally, she reaches up and places a soft kiss against his cheek.

"I'll see you soon, Arthur," she says.

"And you, Gwen," he replies, watching as she steps out the door.

For a while he stands there, her words of gratitude circulating in his mind.

But, to him, they sound an awfully lot like goodbye.

xxx

She walks back to the castle with a heavy heart. Even though she knows she will see him around, it will never be the same as the times they've shared together, and this hurts more than it should.

Pushing this thought aside, she enters court to see her father.

She finds him waiting for her.

"Guinevere, where have you been?" he demands. "I've been waiting for you."

She looks at him apologetically. "I'm sorry, Father, I was out visiting a friend."

He dismisses this and motions for her to sit before him.

"Tell me, daughter," he begins. "Have you finally decided whom it is you will marry?"

Gwen takes a while to answer.

She looks into her father's face, and sees the love for her reflecting highly. But she also sees his great look of expectance there and she feels tied down by duty to make the right choice.

"I have, Father," she finally says. "I've decided to marry Lancelot."

She watches as her father beams and exudes exhilaration.

But she cannot pretend to feel the same.

* * *

When Uther comes home from work, he finds his son sitting at the table with a gloomy look on his face.

"I thought I told you to come back to work," Uther says.

"I'm sorry, Father," he replies, his voice devoid of any emotion. "I guess I got distracted."

His father eyes him curiously, before coming to join him at the table.

When Arthur was younger, he shared a tumultuous relationship with his father. Suffering from depression, Uther would switch from showing his child affection to going through bouts of neglect. This led the way to an extremely difficult and often heated relationship during Arthur's early teenage years and it was only during the last few years that the two had been able to mend their broken bond.

"I didn't know you were friends with the Lady Guinevere," Uther says.

Arthur shrugs. "It's only been a recent thing," he replies glumly.

"She seems like a lovely lady."

Arthur allows himself a smile. "She is," he remarks.

Uther looks on at his son shrewdly. "So how long?"

Arthur looks at him in confusion. "How long what?"

"How long have you been in love with her?"

Arthur looks at his father, aghast. "I am not!"

Uther snorts. "It may have been a while but I know that look when I see it." His eyes darken for a moment, and Arthur knows he is remembering a time when he was the one giving that look.

Arthur sighs. "Fine, maybe I am in love with her and have been for a long while. But what good is that? My feelings mean nothing. I can only ever be a blacksmith to her."

His father contemplates his words. "If you really wanted her, you could use the fact that you have noble blood to be a contender for her affections."

Arthur shakes his head. "Believe me, Father, I've thought about that. But if the king, by some small chance accepted my nobility, he would expect me to train as a knight. And there is no way I would join the likes of prats such as Lancelot. There is nothing I admire about those men, and I do not want to be a part of that. I couldn't, not even for her."

He looks down angrily at the table; feeling immensely frustrated and outdone by.

"This whole situation is futile," he states.

His father reaches out and pats his hand. "Nothing is futile, my son. If you want her that badly, I'm sure you'll find a way to her."

* * *

The next morning, the news of Gwen's engagement to Lancelot is all over Camelot and Gwen spends most of the day attending to official appointments.

In the late afternoon she gets the chance to break away from it all and heads to the royal gardens. It's been a while since she's been able to tend to the gardens, and she revels in the task, immensely enjoying the time to herself.

Lost in thought, she goes over to the roses and examines the array of colours. She smiles when she sees them; this being her favourite part of the garden. She knows that the roses were planted by her mother and enjoys looking after something that is an extension of the woman she never got the chance to know.

She prunes the roses and every now and then she will pick out one she likes and she does not know how long she spends doing this.

"I suppose my congratulations are in order."

Gwen jumps at the sound of the voice. Turning around, she finds Arthur standing a few feet away from her; a package in his hands.

"Arthur!" she cries in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

He doesn't smile or greet her. Instead, he comes to stand in front of her. "I've come to give you this," he tells her, handing her a long, clothed item.

"My sword?" she questions, taking it.

His gives her a ghost of a smile and nods. "I didn't want you to forget it." He takes out something from his pocket. "I got you this too. Consider it a wedding gift from me."

She looks at him in puzzlement and takes the proffered item. She gasps when she sees that it is a pendant in the shape of an apple. Examining the pendant, she sees that it is a piece of metal with intricate designs all over it. Turning it over in her spare hand, she finds the word 'Guinevere' written there.

"Did you make this?" she inquires.

Arthur nods.

"It's wonderful," she enthuses. "I'll cherish this, Arthur."

"I'm glad."

His expression is sombre and Gwen searches his face, trying to gage what's wrong.

"So you decided to marry Lancelot," he finally says.

She nods. "I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to tell you. And yes, I know my father would have wanted me to."

"But what do you want?" he asks.

She shrugs. "I want my father to be happy. So long as he is, I am too."

The look he gives her suggests that he is uncertain by this.

"Lancelot may not be perfect, but I care for him a great deal," she continues.

"If only you'd see him the way I do," his words are wistful and she almost doesn't hear them.

She looks at him in confusion, but he doesn't elaborate.

She studies his face and notices his downcast gaze.

"What is it, Arthur?"

He shakes his head.

"You can tell me anything," she implores.

"I cannot tell you this."

She does not know what compels her to do so, but she transfers her pendant to the hand with the sword in and lifts a finger to Arthur's chin, drawing his gaze back up. His eyes finally meet hers, and they stare on at each other; his lips drawn in a line and his eyes full of intense emotion.

She doesn't know how long they stand like this, but finally Arthur speaks.

"I'm in love with you!" he finally blurts out.

Her finger drops from his chin. "What?"

"I'm in love with you," he reiterates. "And damn it, I've been in love with you since the moment I first saw you!"

She's shocked and speechless. Of all the things, she never expected this. "I don't know what to say," she eventually utters.

"I don't expect you to say anything. I just need you to know, just this once...about how I feel." His voice softens. "I think you're incredible. You're kind-hearted, good-natured, beautiful and this wonderful force that shouldn't be reckoned with." Voice getting quieter he says, "I thought I should tell you that, in case no one ever does."

"Why did you never tell me this before?" she demands.

"Because it wouldn't have mattered! I have nothing to offer you- how could you possibly feel the same?"

She says nothing to this, but she can feel an ache deep within her that she cannot identify.

"I think you're an amazing man," she says. "And that you're an incredible friend."

He shakes his head. "I want you to see me as more than just your friend."

It's her turn to shake her head. "I can't." She feels her eyes welling up.

"I know. You choose duty over your own happiness and I admire that about you. I admire so much about you."

She looks up at him. No one has ever said words like this before to her; has ever made her feel so special. And yet, she doesn't know how to handle this.

So she says nothing.

Instead, she watches as Arthur smiles sadly at her.

"I guess this is my goodbye to you," he says. "I'm sorry if my words ruined your day."

She shakes her head, but he begins to walk off.

"Arthur, wait!" she cries.

He turns to look at her.

"If the situation were different," she begins, "you'd be at the top of the list." And she knows her words to be true.

She watches as his eyes blaze and before she knows it, he is reaching for her; pressing his lips to hers.

She gasps in surprise as his lips touch hers and the sword in her hands drops to the floor, clanging loudly. His lips move against hers and she can taste the saltiness of tears against his lips, but she cannot tell who they belong to. This kiss isn't sweet or one out of affection. It is a kiss full of desperation and anxiousness, regret and sorrow.

Before she knows it, he is pulling away but his eyes stay locked onto hers; raw emotion passing between them.

"Goodbye Guinevere," Arthur speaks, but his voice is hoarse.

Before she gets the chance to say the same, he is walking off and she is left watching his retreating figure.

She collapses to her knees, grasping her fallen sword as tears fall down her face.

She's finally identified the ache within her.

And it is heartbreak.

xxx

Many hours after, she sits numbly on her bed. His pendant is clasped between her palms and her fingers are intertwined together. All she can think about is the memory of his lips against hers, his raw confession and the realisation that somewhere along the way she fell in love with him too.

_If only I knew this before, _she thinks.

But she knows that even that couldn't have made a difference. The two of them would never have been allowed.

Slowly, Gwen walks over to her window and waits to see if Arthur will come to practise.

But he never does.

* * *

Two days later, her father formally announces her engagement to Lancelot. She stands on the platform with Lancelot beside her. Her father gives a flowing speech about the joy of this union, but she does not hear a word, nor does she take in the affectionate glances Lancelot keeps throwing her way.

Instead, she pictures the life set out before her. She envisions isolation, loneliness and a man who could never possibly understand her.

And she also imagines regret.

The image of Arthur pops into her head, and instantly the feelings of content and completion follow.

She lets out a muffled sob and her father stops what he is saying to look at her.

She looks at him in lament. "I'm sorry father," she begins. "I am not feeling well."

And with that she rushes out of the courtroom.

* * *

She runs to Arthur's workshop.

It doesn't matter that she can't run very well in her long, purple dress or that the rain that has begun to fall is impeding her movements. All she knows is that she's got to get to Arthur.

She knows that they are a doomed pair. But she also knows that she doesn't want to live without him; doesn't want to spend the rest of her life wondering what could have happened if she chose him.

She knows that their union will have a price to pay. But whatever it is, she'll pay.

Out of her breath and soaked to the core, she reaches the workshop, but immediately finds out that the shop is locked.

She peers through the window, only to find nobody there and lets out a cry of despair.

She rushes over to Arthur's house and knocks frantically on the door.

But after a long while, there is no answer.

Peering through the windows, she finds the house empty.

Gwen begins to weep.

Arthur's gone and she had no idea where to.

* * *

**A/N: **I know this is really, really mean of me to say, but I do not know when the next update will be. I've signed up to various fic challenges, including Camelot Love's Christmas fic challenge over on lj and various other fic pieces, so I will have to work on those. But hopefully you won't have to wait too long. Thanks for reading and comments greatly appreciated.


	8. Chapter 8

**The Blacksmith's Son- Chapter Eight**

**Chapter**: 8/?  
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairings**: Arthur/Gwen, Gwen/Lancelot, Merlin/Arthur BFFness  
**Disclaimer/references:** Merlin does not belong to me.  
**Summary**: He has the hands of a blacksmith but a heart of a prince- if only she could see that. AU fic, in which Arthur is the blacksmith's son and Gwen a princess- because being epic means being two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that fits, even when the colours have changed.

* * *

She wanders around the castle like a lost soul without a home to go to.

Everywhere around her people move forward with their lives and yet she is transfixed in a moment with a goodbye kiss that was all it could ever be.

People come up to greet her and all she sees is his face.

People call out to her but all she can hear is his voice.

Everywhere she goes, all she sees are memories of him.

But he's nowhere to be found.

* * *

She calls off her engagement to Sir Lancelot.

Somehow, she doesn't think she can go through with it anymore. With Arthur's words still floating around in her mind, she begins to see Lancelot for who he really is.

The people of Camelot love Lancelot, but they love him for the image he has created, and not for the man he really is.

All around, she sees people give him the adoring glances she knows all too well. But many of them won't see the way he treats those who aren't as well off as others. For what she thought was harmless ponderings on those who are poor, is actually rather rude vocalizations. She sees the way he treats them with contempt and the way he treats them as if they're dirt on the bottom of his shoe. And this behaviour shocks her. Further still, she notes the way he shamelessly flirts with other girls; the way he touches and teases and laps up their attention. She knows she's hardly one to talk, but she at least thought his devotions to her were genuine.

These revelations make her feel sick; as if she's been thrown down a hole with no chance to escape and no air to breathe.

Never feeling more convinced of anything, she turns to her father and tells him that she can't marry Lancelot any longer. When he asks why, she simply tells him she's not ready.

She sees the disappointment in her father's eyes.

But not the fury in Lancelot's.

* * *

A few days later, Gwen is sitting on her bed simply thinking, when there is a knock at the door.

Turning to face the door, she is surprised to find Merlin standing there.

She stands up. "Merlin," she greets. "What are you doing here?"

He gives her a small smile. "I've been meaning to see you for a while now," he says. "I just never got the chance."

She gives him a little look of confusion, not too sure why he would be wanting to see her. "That's okay," she tells him.

Merlin walks up to her and rather hesitantly, he gives her something that he'd been holding.

She looks down, only to find an envelope in her hands. Immediately she knows what it is, and heart beating rapidly, she goes to sit down on her bed.

With shaking hands she opens the envelope and pulls out the piece of paper she finds there. Words from the letter bounce out at her, and she struggles to comprehend a single one. Somehow she gets her mind to focus and she reads what she finds there:

_My dearest Gwen,_

_I'm sorry that I had to leave without telling you, and it was a hard decision to make. It pained me to leave you, but staying behind and watching you marry Lancelot would have destroyed me._

_I've gone off with my father to travel the land. Whether I will ever return to Camelot or not I cannot say, but trust that I am safe and well._

_Gwen, I wish for you the upmost happiness in your pending marriage. I hope that Lancelot proves me wrong and can give you all that you deserve. You will make any husband proud and one day I know you'll be the kind of queen that captures the hearts of your people._

_If you ever have wavering doubts or a lapse in faith in anything, know that somewhere, someplace, I believe in you always. And know that also, I will always treasure the memories I have of you forever._

_All the best,_

_Arthur_

It takes several reads of the letter before her mind can fully process it, and when she has placed every word, she lets out a pained gasp.

Immediately, she feels an unfamiliar sensation at her hand, and turning her head, she finds Merlin's hand on hers.

She didn't realise he was still there and offers him a quivering smile. Merlin sits down beside her and places his arm around her.

She leans her head against his shoulder and Merlin strokes her arm; soothing her.

"I'm sure he'll be back," he says in comfort.

She nods, but can't quite get herself to believe it.

Arthur left in the knowledge that she would marry Lancelot and that he would be relegated to the sidelines.

If only he knew that the situation was anything but.

* * *

A week later, Gwen wakes up in the morning and waits for Morgana to come and see her, as arranged.

But when Morgana doesn't show up, Gwen grows worried. It isn't like Morgana to be late or to forget things, so after a while she trudges over to Morgana's room.

When she knocks on her door, she is answered with a weak "Come in."

Stepping in, she finds Morgana looking out the window.

Morgana turns to face her and Gwen sees that her face is ashen.

"Gwen! I'm so sorry, I forgot to meet you."

"Don't be silly, it's okay." Gwen gives her a look of concern. "What's wrong, Morgana?"

Morgana shakes her head, but Gwen looks at her imploringly.

"I had another nightmare," she finally confesses.

Gwen's eyes widen. She knew about Morgana's nightmares and how graphic they could be- and prophetic too. "What about?"

Morgana shakes her head again. "I'm not too sure. All I got were images of things. But...," she bites her lip in hesitation.

"But?"

"But I think they were images of Camelot falling."

Gwen inhales deeply. "Do you think it's a prophecy?"

"I have no idea. I hope not."

"For the sake of Camelot, me too."

There's a long silence before either of them speaks again.

Finally Morgana says, "If my nightmare is true Gwen, then Camelot is in great danger."

"But from whom?"

"I cannot say."

"Well, whatever happens we'll weather it, somehow."

Morgana tries her best to give a convincing smile. "Of course."

They both turn to look out the window, and the wonderful view of Camelot presented to them; safe and still standing.

Morgana turns to Gwen. "Your blacksmith friend," she begins. "Is he still in Camelot?"

A pained expression passes on Gwen's face. "No," she answers softly.

Morgana nods. "I see."

Gwen looks at her. "How come?"

"I just remembered an image I had of him. Of a bright light...and a sword." Morgana rubbed her forehead. "I can't decipher anything else."

Gwen is slightly startled by this small piece of information and wished fervently that Morgana knew more.

"Well, he is a blacksmith," she says.

"Oh believe me, Gwen. This was nothing to do with him being a blacksmith."

* * *

Every day she looks out of her window, wondering if he will return home.

But everyday she is faced with only disappointment.

Those days turn into weeks and those weeks into months. Time moves on in Camelot and things begin to change.

Barely four months later, a few fields of Camelot's crops becomes blighted by disease and are ruined. As a result, food becomes scarce and Camelot falls upon tough times. After a while, knights are sent to neighbouring kingdoms for help. The food offered is hardly enough to be called a feast, but they take it. It's just enough to feed everyone, but not enough to keep them going for long.

Somehow, they get through those next three months, but each day that passes is a long and torturous one.

One day, Gwen passes through the devastated fields when she notices something incredibly odd.

It's the middle of winter, yet crops have sprung up in the field as if overnight.

_As if by magic._

Gwen lets out a gasp and rushes back to the castle to inform her father of the good news.

But when she gets to court, she is greeted by a guard with a grim expression on his face.

"My lady, I regret to inform you that your father has fallen ill."

Her expression falls. "Ill?"

The guard nods.

"How ill?" she demands.

"It doesn't look good, my lady."

Immediately, she rushes to her father's room and finds him asleep in his bed. Beside him, Gaius tends to him.

She treads carefully; wishing this scene to go away.

"How is he?" she quietly asks, startling Gaius.

Gaius turns to face her. "Guinevere," he greets, before letting out a sigh. "I'm afraid not too well. The stress of the famine has proved too much for him."

She walks up to her father's bed, before going to sit by his feet. She sees beads of sweat clamoured on his forehead and when she touches his skin, she finds it clammy.

Immediately, tears spring to her eyes. He's been ill before, but she's never seen him this helpless.

"Will he...live?" she dares ask.

"I cannot say, my child."

Tears begin to fall down her face. "I don't want him to go," she says; voice breaking.

Gaius places a hand on her back. "Believe me Guinevere, I'm doing all I can to help him."

* * *

She spends the next two weeks fixed by her father's side, willing him to get better. Physically and emotionally she's exhausted, but she refuses to leave his side.

She finally leaves when Morgana persuades her to. Assuring her that she will keep an eye on her father, Gwen leaves the room.

She sits alone in the dining room, eating the paltry food on her plate. Every so often she lifts her head up to where her father usually sits, wishing that he was there.

Just as she's finishing her meal, Lancelot steps into the room.

She immediately grows wary and straightens up. She hasn't properly talked to him since postponing their engagement, and knows that he is still irate over the matter.

"Guinevere," he greets in clipped tones.

"Lancelot," she greets back.

"How is your father doing?" he asks.

She eyes him. "He hasn't got any better. But he hasn't got any worse."

He nods. "That's good to hear. I hope that he recovers soon."

"Thank you."

There's a long silence between them.

"Camelot doesn't have anyone to govern them at the moment," Lancelot states.

She looks at him sharply. "For obvious reasons."

"But it needs someone, Guinevere. Camelot is in a state right now."

"Then I will govern Camelot."

"You are not in a position to do so."

"I am his heir!"

"But until you marry, you have no rightful power."

"I hope you're not suggesting that I marry you in order to rule."

"Hardly. I just thought that I'd point out that while the king is either absent or unable to rule, then the position of power does not fall to you."

She looks at him challengingly. "Then who does it fall to?"

Lancelot looks at her almost smugly. "Me."

She shakes her head. "It can't be."

"Guinevere, I am the king's head knight and top adviser. I have looked after Camelot many times in his absence, and I assure you that I will do so aptly this time."

She looks at him angrily, but she also knows that his words are true; the former part at least.

Standing up abruptly, she pushes her chair back with force. "Then if I were you, Lancelot, I would tread very, very carefully."

And with that Gwen storms out of the room, back to her father.

* * *

As Gwen spends her time with her father, she knows Lancelot is out there somewhere, asserting his power. And quite frankly, she doesn't care.

She doesn't care that her father is a king and the she is a princess.

She doesn't care that it is Lancelot who has power over Camelot and not her.

There are only two things she truly cares about. One of them lies in the bed beside her. The other is somewhere she has no idea where.

* * *

A few weeks later, Gwen feels compelled to breathe in the fresh, Camelot air.

She's grown to despise the stale and sickly air of her father's bedroom, and desperate to escape it if only momentarily, she heads outside.

The first place she goes to is the Royal Gardens. She half expects all the plants to be dead; so negligent has she been in looking after them as of late. But she is surprised to find them all alive and well in the cold air. Fleetingly, she wonders if the same thing that causes crops to grow in the dead of winter worked on the gardens too.

Giving the gardens one last wondrous glance, Gwen heads off to the rest of Camelot, but what she finds there shocks her.

She knows that Camelot has fallen on some hard times, but she does not expect to find the hustling and bustling of the people to have dwindled.

Where once there were rows upon rows of market stalls, now she finds only a handful. And those that do have stalls are only selling measly quantities. Somehow, she knows this has nothing to do with there being a famine.

The few people that are out scuttle away when they see her, but Gwen catches enough of their faces to know that these people look ill, as well as frightened. Elsewhere, she sees guards standing by the water pumps.

Bewildered, she walks up to them.

"Why are you standing here?" she demands.

The guards eye her warily. "Sir Lancelot's orders, my lady."

"To guard the pumps?" she asks with incredulity.

"Yes, my lady. As well as to keep the people in order."

Gwen raises an eyebrow and looks around, not seeing any people to 'keep in order.'

Angrily, she storms off to the castle and bursts into court.

She finds Lancelot lounging in her father's throne and this infuriates her even more.

"What is the meaning of all this?" she demands.

Lancelot looks at her in mild amusement. "I'm sorry, Guinevere. You're going to have to clarify. The meaning of all what, exactly?"

She narrows her eyes at him. "What have you done to Camelot?"

Lancelot shrugs. "I've just made a few improvements."

"You've impoverished the town!"

"No, Guinevere. Your father impoverished the town. I'm trying to recoup our losses."

"By what? Keeping guard of the water and cutting out the market stalls?"

Lancelot waves a hand dismissively. "Those peasants are a drain on our resources. By guarding our water and charging for it, it helps keeps consumption down. As for the market stalls, well, I've decided to charge those who sell and impose a tax on those who buy."

"Those peasants are our people," she retorts angrily. "And there is plenty of water in our resources; we do not need to charge. As for imposing a tax on those who buy food, that's ridiculous! Did you not see that our fields sprung crops recently? Fully grown crops that are edible. Those crops are more than enough to feed everybody."

"And yet, isn't it the slightest bit suspicious that those crops sprung up from nowhere? I've had the field ploughed and the crops stored away."

"So you would rather the people starve because you think the crops 'suspicious'?"

"Yes. Magic and whatever other sinister force is outlawed in Camelot, you know that Guinevere. And these crops are not by the hand of nature. So I would mostly definitely risk the people starving for their own safety. Besides, we have enough food to feed the noble people at least."

She looks at him in revulsion. "My father would never allow this," she states.

"Well in case it's escaped your attention, your father is not here. Besides, I think his approach at ruling was far too soft-hearted. Camelot is never going to reach its full glory as long as he's still ruling and with him tending to all the people's needs."

"Don't you dare insult my father's ruling. Up until recently, his reign has been a prosperous one."

"If he'd been more careful, he would not be in the position he is in now."

She looks at him, a rage descending upon her. She wishes to strike him, but thinks better of it. "Luckily for Camelot, you will never be their king."

Lancelot smiles maliciously and walks up to her. "Don't be so sure, Guinevere. I could find a way," he says, meaningfully stroking her arm.

She shrugs him off. "You're despicable," she says, spitting in his face.

Lancelot narrows his eyes at her actions and slowly wipes the spit off his face.

"Guards," he drawls. "Seize her."

Her eyes widen. "No!" she cries. "You have no authority-," she begins, but two guards grab her by the arms.

"Lock her in her room, and make sure she stays there," Lancelot orders.

She struggles against the guards, but they resist and she screams out protestations.

As she is dragged out of court, she sees only the smirk on Lancelot's face.


	9. Chapter 9

**The Blacksmith's Son- Chapter Nine**

**Chapter**: 9/?  
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairings**: Arthur/Gwen, Gwen/Lancelot, Merlin/Arthur BFFness  
**Disclaimer/references:** Merlin does not belong to me.  
**Summary**: He has the hands of a blacksmith but a heart of a prince- if only she could see that. AU fic, in which Arthur is the blacksmith's son and Gwen a princess- because being epic means being two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that fits, even when the colours have changed.

xxx

The moment that Gwen is thrown into her room, she runs up to the door and shakes it, determined to escape. But sheer will alone is not enough to open it.

She lets out a frustrated cry.

"Let me out!" she shouts to the guards on the other side of the door but she is greeted with a stoic silence.

Frustrated, she goes to her bed and holds her head in her hands.

_I can't believe I'm a prisoner in my own home, _she thinks to herself.

She thinks about her father ill in his bed and the desperation she feels about not being there by his side. She wonders about Morgana and fears for her safety. She knows that her friend is spirited, and that if Morgana were to do something to upset Lancelot, it would be the dungeons and not her chambers that she would be residing in.

A new surge of anger swept over her. This whole situation was preposterous. _Damn Lancelot and his megalomaniac tendencies! _

Feeling utterly helpless, she wanders around her room trying to find some way to channel her frustrations.

She stops in front of her dresser where she finds a porcelain replica of the castle, no bigger than her hand, which Lancelot gave to her as a present. The ornament is intricate and beautifully designed; something she knows Lancelot spent a great deal on. Immediately, she picks it up and hurls it to the ground, watching it smash into pieces. There's an instant feeling of satisfaction and Gwen gathers every object that Lancelot has ever given her, and throws each of them on the floor or against the wall. Those that are too strong to break with simple force, is attacked with a heavy object in her hands until they shatter to bits. She imagines that each object is Lancelot's face.

When she is done and her room looks a state, she leans against a wall and slides down it. Feeling purged, she hopes that she has at least given the guards heart palpitations from the racket in her room.

After a few moments though, she begins to feel pensive.

_Whatever happened to Lancelot? _She wonders. _And whatever happened to that sweet man I thought I knew?_

xxx

The next day she is summoned in front of Lancelot.

Two knights escort her to court, and when she gets there, she finds him still lounging in her father's chair with a supreme look of arrogance on his face. Surrounding the perimeter of the court are a few of the knights of court, each of them wearing an impassive look upon their faces. It dismays her to see how easily they've switched their alliances from her father to Lancelot.

"Hello, Guinevere," Lancelot greets her as she comes to stand in front of him. "I gather that your time spent in your room has been that of reflection?"

She thinks about her time spent smashing all of her tokens from him. "It most certainly has," she says in a sombre voice.

"I regret that I had to lock you in your room, but your attitude was unsatisfactory."

"If you say so."

"The thing is that I am quite determined to get to power, seeing as your father is unlikely to recover. And to do so, that means either killing you off or marrying you. And seeing as the former would be messy and I would then have to kill everyone else who is next in line, I would rather do the latter."

"Is that your way of asking me to marry you?" she inquires, whilst thinking that he was most certainly mad.

Lancelot ponders this. "Yes, I do believe it is."

"Wow," she breathes. "How enticing you make it sound." She looks him in the eyes and pauses before saying, "But I would rather die a thousand times than to allow you to call me your wife."

A quiet rage passes over his face. "Very well," he replies curtly. "If you won't marry me by will, I will marry you by force." He turns to the guards. "Guards, take her back to her room and bring her back here in the morning. And send out announcements that the two of us are to be wed tomorrow."

The guards nod and seize her, and not once does she allow the fear she feels to be betrayed on her face.

xxx

Gwen's room feels oppressive and she wants nothing more than to escape.

But she can think of nothing to help her do so, and she begins to despair. Under no possible circumstance would she ever want to marry Lancelot, not now, and true to her word she would rather die than do so.

A couple of hours later, her door finally open, and a guard steps in with her food, another staying behind, on the watch. She sees that this guard is Sir Leon, who previously had been a knight she had been rather fond of.

She waits for him with her arms folded and a haughty expression on her face.

"Here is your food, my lady," Sir Leon says, stepping through. When she doesn't take it, he places the plate tentatively by her feet. He makes as if to leave, but Gwen stops him with her words.

"Wait," she bellows. The surprising sound of authority stops him and he turns around to look at her.

Sir Leon winces. "Yes, my lady?"

"You do realise that I'm Princess of Camelot, don't you?"

"Of course, my lady."

"And that one day I will be future Queen of Camelot."

"Most definitely, my lady."

She raises an eyebrow at him. "Then why do you keep me trapped in my chambers by the orders of a knight less superior to me?" She casts her gaze to the other knight and is pleased to see him flushing.

Sir Leon has the decency to look mildly ashamed and he goes up to her and places his hand on her arm.

"My lady, you must know that I think that this whole situation is ridiculous."

She sees the genuine expression on his face and something in her demeanour relents slightly. "Then why not let me go?" she inquires. "Why not let me escape so that I am not forced to marry him?"

"Because Lancelot is watching us closely. Those of us who feel he is doing wrong are being watched by those who are loyal to him. As much as I would do anything to free you, he will severely punish both me_ and_ my family if I do, and I can't risk the lives of my children."

She nods and gives him a wavering smile. "That's understandable. I can't ask you to risk your life or your family's."

"I wish there was another way," he says, apologetically.

A thought occurs to her. "Maybe there is."

He looks at her encouragingly.

"I need you to go and see Merlin, the physician's assistant. If anyone asks you why, tell them I'm coming down with an illness and have requested a remedy. You must tell him of the situation and ask that he sends out for help from other kingdoms. If he can, ask him if he can try and free me. I know it's a long shot, but I doubt Lancelot will be watching him as closely as he will be you."

"I'll try my best, my lady."

"Thank you, Sir Leon, I won't forget this. Good luck."

"You too, Guinevere."

xxx

She spends the next few hours pacing around her room, wondering if Merlin will come and free her. It's a shot in the dark that he'll even be able to convey her request for help to other kingdoms let alone be able to get to her, yet she has faith in him. She knows he's not exactly like Arthur in his 'save-the-world' approach, but instinct tells her that if anyone can free her, it's Merlin.

So she waits.

Each hour that passes drags, and she begins to fret.

_What if it all goes wrong? _She questions. _What if Sir Leon wasn't able to tell Merlin?_ _What if he got caught or worse; what if Merlin doesn't turn up at all? What if he does come, where do we go? I suppose we may have to leave Camelot, but where _to_? Where do we go for help? And ... and ... _oh, _I should change into something more appropriate, this dress hardly constitutes as escape-attire._

She realises that her thoughts are bordering on hysterical, but she's never done something so risky before, and never in such desperation.

She walks over to her wardrobe and opens it, but is dismayed to find that most of her outfits are dresses. It takes a while for her to find her tunic and trousers that she wore whilst learning how to fight, and when she does she puts them on, vowing to procure more suitable clothing for such occasions when things return back to normal.

She goes back to sitting on her bed and waiting.

After a while, she remembers her sword and pulls it from under her bed. Unclothing it, she goes back to her bed and places it in her lap.

She feels like a formidable warrior...and she kind of likes it.

xxx

Night time falls in Camelot and Gwen begins to grow nervous. She knows that if Merlin is to come, he will come when night falls.

She stands up and paces around the room, trying to dispel her nervous energy, and she listens out for unfamiliar sounds outside her door, but all she hears is the small talk of the guards and the changing of their shifts every hour.

After a while, her nervous energy dissipates, but she holds on to hope. She goes back to sitting on her bed and waiting.

But time passes and the room grows darker, and still there is no sign of Merlin.

She begins to doubt that he will come and disappointment begins to well up in her.

She sighs and holds her head in her heads, resigning herself to the fact that she'll have to marry Lancelot.

Tiredness sweeps over her and reluctantly she closes her eyes.

xxx

A loud bang causes her to open her eyes. Startled, she looks towards her door, and from the crack at the bottom she sees light flickering. She then hears a thud, and before she can process what's happening, a voice speaks.

"GWEN, STAND BACK FROM THE DOOR!"

A moment later, the door explodes and Gwen lets out a scream, shutting her eyes.

When she opens them a few seconds later, she finds her door lying unhinged and charred on the floor, and Merlin standing in the doorway with his hand held out.

She takes one look at the door and then her gaze shifts to Merlin.

Gwen's jaw drops. Of all the things she expected, she _most certainly _did not expect to see this.

Merlin's hand drops to his side, and he looks a bit sheepish.

"I er... couldn't find the key," he says by way of explanation.

"Oh," is all she can say. It takes a moment of staring at him before she gathers her senses and rushes up to him.

Just as they're about to flee, she remembers her sword and goes rushing back for that, before darting back to Merlin. As they step out the door, she notes the two fallen guards.

"How did you-," she begins.

"No time to explain," he interrupts, before taking her hand and breaking into a run.

She keeps up with him; all the time a bemused expression on her face.

She didn't think it possible, but apparently the one thing more absurd than being imprisoned by an egomaniacal knight was being freed by a magical man who throws doors off of their hinges.

xxx

Gwen finds herself smuggled into Gaius' quarters. She's been here only a few times before, but she recognises it well.

She tries to catch her breath as Merlin paces around the room.

"I'm sorry I was so late, Gwen," he says, apologetically. "You being imprisoned caught me by surprise and I had to do a lot of planning and wait for the right moment, you know?"

She nods, but words fail her.

"We don't have a lot of time," he carries on. "The guards will gain consciousness in a couple of hours. I timed it so I got you soon after the guards changed, but the next ones will be along soon and undoubtedly they'll notice that you're not there, so we better make a move on."

She knows that she should agree with his plan or express gratitude for him rescuing her, but the only thing she can say is, "You're _magic_!"

Merlin puts his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. "It's shocked you, hasn't it?"

"No," she denies, a little bit too quickly.

Merlin raises his eyebrows.

"Well, a little bit," she admits. "It's definitely...surprising."

"Is it okay me being magic?" he hesitantly asks. "I know it's a lot to take in and I also know magic is banned in Camelot."

"Well, I think you're a good person," she says. She then looks at him. "You _are _a good person, aren't you?"

He nods.

"And you helped me a lot," she adds. "Really, that's all that matters."

Merlin smiles broadly, but then this quickly vanishes. "We really better be going now," he instructs.

"Where are we going to go?" she asks.

"A kingdom, any kingdom, it doesn't really matter, so long as it's safe and they can help us." He gives her an impish grin. "I'm not really good at this whole epic-mission thing, that's more Arthur's forte."

She smiles. It's not exactly her field of expertise either.

Cautiously, Merlin leans his head out of the door, and seeing nothing threatening, he beckons Gwen to follow.

He has two horses ready out back. Quietly they approach them. While mounting her horse, it occurs to Gwen that this is all very sneaky and she worries that at any moment they're going to get caught. Merlin, on the other hand, seems a lot more confident and if she didn't know any better, she'd think he'd done this kind of thing before.

Now on top of her horse, she takes one look at the castle. She's extremely glad that she's finally out of her chambers and away from Lancelot. However, she can't help but feel anxious about leaving behind her sick father and Morgana.

"They'll be fine," Merlin assures her, as if he can read her mind.

"How do you know?" she asks.

"Because Gaius will look after your father and Morgana is strong enough to take care of herself."

"I suppose you're right," she finally says with a nod.

And then the two of them are off, flying pass the guards who wait at the exit of the castle grounds, pass the other guards who go running after them, pass the town, pass the fields and finally, out of sight of Camelot and away from the evil within.

xxx

She doesn't know how long they've been riding at a fast pace for, but they pass forests and fields in the terrifying darkness. Every now and then, she will turn her around, feeling like someone is on their tail, but she sees nobody.

Finally, Merlin slows down a little and steadies his horse so that it's riding alongside Gwen's.

"How are you feeling?" he inquires.

"Like I'm breaking the law," she replies.

Merlin flashes her a grin. "It gets easier the more you do it," he informs her.

"I'm sure it does," she answers before breaking into a yawn.

"We'll reach a kingdom soon, hopefully," he says in response to her tiredness. He turns his head to the sky, as if looking for something. Confused, Gwen follows his gaze.

"What are you looking for?" she asks.

"Just my messenger," he replies, eyes brightening when he sees a black dot appear in the sky.

"Your-?" she begins, but pauses when that black dot appears to get bigger before hurtling out of the sky and towards Merlin. Finally, the dot falls into Merlin's lap, and Gwen sees that in actual fact the large dot is actually a scrawny-looking owl.

More confused than ever, she says, "You have a messenger and it's an owl?"

Merlin picks up the owl from his lap. "Yeah, how else did you expect me to get help?"

"I don't know," she admits.

Bringing the stocky ball of brown fluff to eye-level, Merlin asks it, "Did you find him?"

Gwen's eyes widen at his words, wondering if he could possibly be talking about Arthur.

The owl let out an affectionate hoot, before trying to nip Merlin's nose.

"Well, where's the letter then?" he demands.

The owl let out a low-pitched hoot, which to Gwen sounded a lot like shamefulness.

"Oh Archimedes," Merlin says with a groan, "you weren't supposed to leave without the note."

Archimedes let out another low-pitched hoot.

"Did you at least give him my note?"

The owl gave a high-pitched hoot.

"And? What was his reaction? Is he on his way?"

Archimedes hooted affectionately.

"Well, how far away is he?"

Merlin is greeted by silence.

"You don't know, do you?"

More silence.

Merlin lets out a sigh.

"Go back to Camelot, Archimedes," he continues. "Go and see Gaius and see what the situation is, and bring me back a note this time, okay?"

The owl gave a hoot of acknowledgement before flying off.

"That's an interesting owl you have, Merlin," Gwen remarks.

"Although not the smartest," he says with a sigh.

Gwen looks at him a long while before asking, "Merlin, did you-,"

"Yes," he answers before she can finish.

A feeling that she can't quite identify overwhelms her. "That's good," she says. "And thank you, Merlin."

"I did say he'll be back," he muses.

xxx

Dawn is about to break and Gwen's exhausted.

They stop briefly, in which time Merlin patrols the surroundings, and Gwen sits on a fallen log in contemplation. They're in the middle of a forest with no end in sight, and Gwen doesn't know whether they'll ever make it to the other end in one piece. She also has a suspicion that they are lost, even if Merlin won't admit it.

So much has happened in the last couple of days that she finds it hard to process. Lancelot imprisoning her, Merlin freeing her, Merlin turning out to be a sorcerer, news that Arthur is on the return...

_Arthur._

Her heart quivers at the prospect. For so long she confined herself to the fact that he would never return, and now that he apparently is, she can't quite bring herself to believe it.

Behind her, she hears branches snapping and the sound of fast-moving footsteps tells her that it's Merlin.

She turns to him and sees that he has a panicked expression on his face.

"What's wrong, Merlin?" she demands.

"I'm afraid we've been followed, Gwen."

"Followed? _How_?"

"I don't know, but there are fifteen knights or so."

"Definitely from Camelot?"

Merlin nods, grimly.

Gwen begins to panic. "What do we do?"

"I'm afraid we're going to have to stand our ground."

"But there are only two of us."

Merlin gives a small smile. "I think you're forgetting that I'm a sorcerer."

She laughs, nervously. "Of course."

"Just stand with your back to mine and fight with your sword. Just remember everything Arthur taught you."

She nods and at the sound of approaching footsteps, she goes to stand back-to-back with Merlin. In that instance, the knights appear as if from nowhere and surround them in a circle.

Gwen's heart starts to beat frantically, but she tries not to let her fear show.

"Well, well what do we have here?" says the knight closest to her. She throws a disdainful glance at him, recognising him immediately as a close crony of Lancelot. "A princess and a pauper, how sweet."

The knights laugh.

"Look, men!" the knight continues. "The princess has even feebly armed herself with a sword, but the boy carries no weapon."

The knights laugh again in ridicule.

"Actually," Merlin pipes up. "I don't need a weapon to fight."

And with that, Merlin up throws a knight with a surge of energy and he lands on his back. The rest of the knights advance on them, enraged.

Gwen is momentarily stunned with fear. She's never fought anyone seriously before, and never more than one person at a time. She's not sure if she can do this.

But then she suddenly remembers being kidnapped by bandits more than a year ago, and the vulnerability and futility that followed.

Familiar spoken words flash through her mind.

_I don't want to be just a helpless princess anymore._

And within her, she conjures the strength to fight.

xxx

The cocky knight who spoke those words is the one who moves towards her first. The grin on his face suggests that he thinks that this will be the easiest fight he's ever fought, and she uses this to her advantage. She holds her sword at an awkward angle so it looks like she doesn't know how to hold her weapon, and as soon as the knight is near her, she strikes. Surprised by her attack, he strikes back with his sword but she parries it. Further surprised by her moves, the knight applies additional force behind his strikes, but Gwen is able to counter each one. The knight is a good fighter and most certainly has been taught well by Lancelot. But Gwen's had a better teacher.

Fighting this knight is completely different from fighting Arthur. This is instinctive and if Gwen didn't know better, she would say that it was the sword controlling her actions and not her controlling its.

After a while, Gwen finds the vulnerable spot in the knight's movements, and striking him hard in the gut, she watches as he goes flying to the ground; injured.

Pleased, she turns to look at Merlin, who is standing several feet behind her and finds that he's rendered several knights unconscious.

Another one goes to attack her but she beats him easily.

She casts her gaze to Merlin again and gasps when she sees a knight approaching him from behind, unbeknownst to him.

She screams his name; too far away to help him, but the knight strikes Merlin on the head and he falls to the ground, unconscious. She screams again and doesn't realise that another knight has approached her until something whispers to her to look in front of her. Seeing him, she just misses a near-fatal blow, but instead he strikes her on the arm, injuring her. The pain is intense, but she knows she has to keep going in order to get to Merlin afterwards. But in her weakness, she realises that this is a fight she will not be able to win, and the knight knows this.

And then something strange begins to happen.

Her sword begins to glow.

Dimly at first, she doesn't even notice it. But then it grows brighter and brighter, lighting up the entire forest. She is confused as to why it's doing it, but quickly she realises that it's blinding the knight and as he shields his eyes from it, she forces her body into him, driving him to the ground.

There are three knights who remain standing. Nonplussed by the bright intensity of the light, they all begin to approach her. Feeling incredibly weak, she collapses to the ground; her sword falling to her side.

Eyes struggling to remain open, she's aware of only a few things.

The blood pouring from her arm.

Merlin lying a few feet away, still unconscious.

A knight dragging her across the ground as he attempts to seize her.

And then all of a sudden, the sound of approaching horses.

Suddenly, five men on horses, dressed head-to-toe in armour burst onto the scene.

In her panic, Gwen thinks that they are here to attack her, but this fear is quickly swept away when they dismount from their horses and begin to fight the remaining knights.

One of them heads towards her and her captive, and through half-closed eyelids, she sees him pick up her still-glowing sword and points it towards the knight, despite the fact he has his own in his holster.

Frightened, the knight drops her to the ground.

"Don't you know it's dishonourable to attack a woman?" the armoured-man asks in a gravelly voice. His presence is strangely comforting and there's something almost familiar about his voice.

The knight says nothing and instead proceeds to attack the man. With little effort the man fights him and in no time at all, drives the sword through the knight's gut.

Her eyes are almost closed when the man kneels beside her.

Vaguely, she wonders what he wants, and wishes she had the energy to ask him. Or to thank him.

Instead, she feels the man briefly touch her hand; his gloved one against her cold one.

She just about watches as he removes his helmet from his head; his blond hair escaping free.

She only just sees his familiar blue eyes lock onto her fading ones.

But after that, she sees nothing.


	10. Chapter 10

**The Blacksmith's Son- Chapter Ten**

**Chapter**: 10/?  
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairings**: Arthur/Gwen, Gwen/Lancelot, Merlin/Arthur BFFness  
**Disclaimer/references:** Merlin does not belong to me.  
**Summary**: He has the hands of a blacksmith but a heart of a prince- if only she could see that. AU fic, in which Arthur is the blacksmith's son and Gwen a princess- because being epic means being two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that fits, even when the colours have changed.

A/N: This chapter was supposed to be a long one, but I decided it would be a lot to take in, so will be two short ones. It also takes a step backwards before it takes one forwards. The next one will be up in a few days. Many thanks to lovedbyahero for the beta and fireflies_7 over at lj for the idea about the knights. Thanks also to everyone who commented last chapter and enjoy :D

* * *

When Arthur decided to leave Camelot, it was an incredibly hard decision for him to make. But though the idea of never seeing Gwen again tore at him and it saddened him to leave Merlin behind, there was nothing left in Camelot for him. Nothing worth staying for.

Even before he bid her goodbye, he'd made up his mind to leave without the intention of ever coming back. He made the pendant for her to remember him by, and handed her both that and her sword as he congratulated her on her upcoming nuptials. Telling her how he felt about her was impulsive, but he needed to relieve his burden to her. He didn't expect anything in return and yet her words in response had reignited that spark of hope he didn't even realise he held, and what was meant to be his words of goodbye, turned into a goodbye kiss. After that, he walked away from her and Camelot with both the sweetest and bitterest taste on his lips.

His father took him to one of the neighbouring kingdoms, Lyonesse. At first, Arthur was uncertain as to their purpose there, but then he learnt that the king was his mother's brother. Being in Lyonesse was incredibly emotional for both him and his father. This was the home of the woman he never got the chance to know, the kingdom where she grew up in and the king of which was the brother that she had adored. There were memories of her everywhere: in the paintings that adorned the walls, her name carved in the tree that she used to love to dance around and imprinted on the faces of her brother's daughters. For the son who knew near to nothing of his mother and the husband who found it too painful to think of her, seeing ghosts of this woman they loved all around was extremely hard to bear, but something they both needed to endure.

Despite the fact that they were virtually strangers to the kingdom, the king welcomed them with open arms, glad that after many years of begging Uther to visit, he'd finally done so. The last time Uther had been here, he'd escorted Igraine to Camelot, where they were to wed. With her gone, he never wanted to return; the pain of her loss too vivid.

_But there are few things you can run away from and fewer things still that you can keep hiding in the dark from._

* * *

Finding a rare moment to relax, Arthur leans out of his bedroom window and gazes fondly at the view of the kingdom.

Almost a year has passed since he arrived in Lyonesse and his life has changed so much that he struggles to recognise the man he used to be. Instead of a shed of a house, he now lives in one of the spacious castle rooms, of which he has all to himself. Whereas before he had only his father's company, that of Merlin and sometimes Gwen to be content with, nowadays he is constantly surrounded by people. Whether it's his uncle or his wife, Iseult, their four children of whom he is quite fond of or the people of Lyonesse who are all eager to know him, Arthur is never short on company. He finds the fuss over him quite overwhelming, but not unwelcome. His father however, is not so keen, and he takes up post as a royal blacksmith, away from all the noise. As for Arthur, being in Lyonesse has finally given him an opportunity to pursue his dream of becoming a knight. Unlike Camelot, there is no one remotely like Lancelot. The knights of Lyonesse are honourable and decent men, whom Arthur enjoys working with. Being a knight is everything he ever hoped it will be. He excels in all sorts of fighting, and his sword-fighting in particular is much admired by the other men. He gets the chance to defend and serve the kingdom with pride and honour; a role in which he relishes deeply.

And while there never seems to be a shortage of women clamouring for his attention, he never once gives them a second glance. Somehow, none of them are able to inspire the same interest in them as he was in Gwen.

Much time has passed since the announcement of her engagement, and Arthur keeps his ear pressed to the ground, awaiting news of her marriage, but it never comes. Thinking that he must have missed the news, he thinks nothing of it. But as much as he tries to forget her, Gwen graces his mind often.

But not once does it ever occur to him that she could be in danger.

* * *

A week later, Arthur is out training with the knights when he spots a dark shape in the sky. On closer inspection, he realises that it's a bird and that it's heading his way.

It literally falls out of the sky, and immediately recognising it as Merlin's owl, Arthur reaches out his hands to catch it.

"What is _that?_" one of the knights asks.

Arthur grins. "Why, Gawain, I thought you'd recognise an owl when you saw one," he says as he tries to revive the owl.

"I've never seen an owl before," Gawain confesses. "And besides, aren't they nocturnal?"

"Not this one. He's...special. Just like his master."

Gawain gives him a confused look and Arthur manages to awaken the exhausted owl.

Instantly recognising him, Archimedes gives him an affectionate if tired hoot.

"What are you doing here, Archimedes?" Arthur questions.

Standing up in his hands, Archimedes lifts up a leg and Arthur immediately sees the note there. Untying it, he reads it:

_Arthur,_

_I don't know where it is your quest has taken you and how you are keeping, but Camelot has fallen under grave danger. The king has fallen ill, the kingdom is under famine and worst still, Lancelot has imprisoned Gwen in her room and is going to force her to marry him against her will. If you can, I implore that you come back to Camelot with help. Gwen desperately needs help and I can't do it alone._

_Merlin_

Immediately, his face grows ashen and he turns around, walking away from the knights.

"Wait, Arthur, where are you going?" Constantine asks.

"To see the king," he answers, before stopping and turning around to face him. "Do me a favour, will you? Find this owl a mouse to eat," he says, handing Constantine the owl.

Dumfounded, he takes the owl and watches as Arthur rushes to the castle.

* * *

A few hours later, Arthur has permission to go and help Camelot, and he brings along Gawain Constantine and two other knights to help him. The knights are fond of Camelot and in particular of Guinevere, whose beauty and benevolence precedes her, and are eager to do all they can to help her.

Darkness has already fallen over Lyonesse when they set off, and logic tells him that they should wait until dawn until they set off, but reason seems to escape him. He's gone almost a year without news of her, and now that he has heard of her, the news isn't exactly good news.

The entire journey he spends scolding himself for not being more attentive to news from Camelot and for not making an effort to keep in touch with Merlin.

If he'd known about the famine...

If he'd known that Camelot was in trouble...

If he'd known that Gwen hadn't married Lancelot after all...

..._then things would be so different._

* * *

They ride fast for a few hours, and thoughts of Gwen imprisoned by Lancelot preoccupy his mind. He tries to control the surge of anger that overcomes him when he thinks of this, and vows that when he sees Lancelot, he will pay. Arthur had warned her of the man's true nature, but he had never wanted to be proved right.

The men enter a dense forest, lit only by the flames of their torches. They navigate through it as if it were a maze, but after a while something grabs their attention and they stop.

Up ahead of them, an unnatural light begins to shine, dimly at first before getting brighter and brighter; lighting up the entire forest.

"It must be the work of sorcery," Gawain mutters.

_Sorcery._

Arthur suddenly remembers the spells that Merlin put on Gwen's sword at his request, and instinct tells him that it is the sword that is causing a light to shine so brightly. Of all the scenarios, he never envisioned that Gwen would have escaped and be out here in the forest. But it seems that even though far from Camelot, she's not far from harm.

"No," Arthur answers. "I have a feeling that it's a sign from Camelot. We must hurry over, but men approach with caution. There is danger ahead."

Heeding his words, the men begin to ride over to the source of light, and all the while, Arthur's heart races, scared of what he might find there.

What they discover are knights of Camelot scattered on the ground. Alarmed, Arthur tries to locate Gwen, and sees her being dragged away by a knight still standing. She's injured, he can tell that much, and as she drops the glowing sword from her hand, he rushes over.

Picking up her fallen sword, he makes his way over to the barely-conscious Gwen and the knight. Trying to suppress his rage at the sight, he asks the knight, "Don't you know it's dishonourable to attack a woman?"

The man says nothing. Instead, he drops Gwen to the ground and begins to attack him, but he is no match for Arthur and the fury behind his movements.

In no time at all, the knight falls down and Arthur heads over to Gwen's side.

He kneels down beside her and sees that she is looking at him with her eyes almost closed.

He presses a trembling hand against her cheek, only to find it cold against his glove.

_The life is ebbing away from her, _he realises with horror.

He takes off his helmet to see her better, and sees that blood is pouring from her arm.

His eyes try to lock onto hers and keep her with him, but her eyes have already shut. Mind frantic, he tries to find something to impede the bleeding, and lifting up his chainmail, he tears at his undershirt. He ties the material around her arm, and hopes that it is enough to help.

Lifting up his head, he sees that the other men have quickly taken out the last standing knights.

Gawain approaches Arthur.

"Is that the Lady Guinevere?" he asks.

Arthur nods silently.

"Is she going to be okay?"

"I don't know," he answers hoarsely.

Elsewhere, the knight Bedivere speaks. "Arthur, there's a young man here! He's unconscious but alive."

He realises immediately that it's Merlin.

"Gather him up," he orders. "They both need help."

"Where are we going to go?" Constantine asks. "Camelot is far away and by the looks of things, too dangerous to risk trying to save their lives there."

"We'll turn back and head home," Arthurs answers.

"But Lyonesse is a few hours away."

"We don't have much choice," he says with anguish. He knows that in that time Gwen could die, but he refuses to believe it.

He picks up Gwen and holds her in his arms, and holding her close to his chest he slowly heads towards his horse.

Behind him, Gawain collects the sword from the fallen knight and finds it still glowing.

Beside him, Bedivere hoists Merlin over his shoulder, and takes him to his horse.

And with lightning speed, they rush back to Lyonesse, Arthur fervently wishing that they make it back in time.

* * *

After an hour, Arthur notices that Gwen's arm still hasn't stopped bleeding. He also notices that her breathing has begun to slow and that she's getting colder.

He begins to panic, but keeping his mind focused, he rides on.

Behind him, he hears the sound of groaning and then a, "Where am I?" and moments later, "Wait, stop! _Stop_!"

Halting his horse, he turns around only to find Merlin climbing off Bedivere's horse and heading towards Arthur, in a disorientated fashion.

"You're awake," Arthur states, surprised.

"Of course I'm awake, why wouldn't I be?" he replies, eye glued onto Gwen.

"I don't know, maybe because not so long ago you were out cold?"

Merlin doesn't pay attention to Arthur's words. "Hand her to me," he instructs.

"What?" Arthur asks, his mind taking a moment to register what Merlin is saying.

"I can save her."

Nodding, Arthur lowers Gwen to Merlin, and he takes her, kneeling down to the ground.

"She's lost a lot of blood," Merlin murmurs.

"Are you sure you can save her?" Arthur asks in concern.

"I've never been surer of anything in my life," he responds. Swallowing, he places his hand over Gwen's wounded arm. Blood covers him, but he ignores it. Instead, he utters a foreign phrase and Arthur watches as Merlin's hand lights up.

They wait with bated breath to see what happens. Slowly, Arthur notices that Gwen's arm stopped bleeding and after a while, her breathing begins to pick up. However, her eyes remain shut.

Confused, he says, "She's not conscious."

Merlin smiles and removing the neckerchief from his neck, his mops up the dried blood on his hand and on Gwen. "No," he replies. "Give her a while to regain her strength and she will be."

Arthur finds himself smiling too; suddenly ecstatic. "Thank you," he says to his friend. Arthur realises then that he's spent so long worrying about Gwen that he hadn't thought about the welfare of Merlin. This is the first time he's seen him in so long, and up until now, this thought hadn't even occurred to him. "It's good to see you, my friend," he says.

Merlin continues grinning and hits Arthur in the shoulder. "It's good to see you too, _Sir _Arthur."

* * *

A few hours after the break of dawn, they arrive back at the castle.

Arthur carries Gwen to a guest room nearest to his, and slowly lowers her to the bed. His hand feels something cold at the back of her neck, and gently lifting the item from where it is tucked into her tunic, he sees that it is the necklace he gave her so long ago.

For some reason, seeing her with his necklace strikes a chord deep within him. It's almost as if he expected her to forget him. But how foolish he was to think so.

Daylight pours through the window and Arthur finally gets the chance to truly examine her. She's covered in dirt, from the mud in her messed up hair to the grime and blood on her tunic. Despite the dirt, he can tell that she's lost a lot of weight since he last saw her and that she's become painfully thin. Worry lines are etched deep within her face and she seems to have aged a great deal.

"Oh Gwen," he says to her. "What troubles have you endured since I've been away?"

He clasps her hand and is relieved to find it warm, and slowly, he watches as a smile etches on her face.

He knows that he wouldn't have been able to prevent a famine, or her father falling ill had he remained in Camelot. But knight or not, he would have made sure that Lancelot didn't cause her an ounce of misery.

Gwen lets out a quiet sigh, and smiling, Arthur leans towards her and places a kiss against her lips.

"Sweet dreams, Gwen," he says softly to her, before getting up and leaving.

He gives her a final look, in hope that she wakes up soon.


	11. Chapter 11

**The Blacksmith's Son- Chapter Eleven**

**Chapter**: 11/12  
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairings**: Arthur/Gwen, Gwen/Lancelot, Merlin/Arthur BFFness  
**Disclaimer/references:** Merlin does not belong to me.  
**Summary**: He has the hands of a blacksmith but a heart of a prince- if only she could see that. AU fic, in which Arthur is the blacksmith's son and Gwen a princess- because being epic means being two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that fits, even when the colours have changed.

**A/N:** Thanks to lovedbyahero for the beta. This is the penultimate chapter, peeps!

For everyone who made it this far without quitting, you deserve a medal..and a cookie.

* * *

When Gwen opens her eyes, she finds herself in a bed that doesn't feel familiar and a room she doesn't recognise. Disorientated and confused, she immediately sits up, only to find Merlin dozing in a chair opposite her bed.

"Merlin," she calls out, her voice raspy.

Merlin wakes immediately. "Gwen!" he exclaims, rushing to her side. He pours her a goblet of water, and she takes it, overcome with thirst.

Once she has drunk from the goblet, she looks at him in bewilderment. "Where _are_ we?"

"We're in Lyonesse," he replies. Hesitating slightly, he asks, "Gwen, what do you remember from last night?"

She shakes her head. "Vague things, really. You rescuing me and then the two of us running away from Camelot. I remember being attacked by knights..." her voice trails off. There's something else, something more important, but her mind can't quite grasp it. "I was badly injured," she says, looking at the sleeve of her tunic. It's in tatters and she tentatively draws it up. She frowns when she sees dried blood there but no wound. "I had a deep cut here," she states.

"I know," Merlin says.

She looks up at him.

"I healed you," he told her. "You were going to die and I had no choice."

She nods, somehow not surprised. "Then I thank you," she tells him sincerely. She sees his face light up with a smile. A thought occurs to her then, something that she'd been meaning to ask but hadn't had the chance. "When we were in Camelot, I noticed that crops popped up in the middle of winter, as if overnight. Was that...you?"

She watches as Merlin's smile grows bigger. "It was," he confirms. "I hated seeing everyone starve. I had the power to end all that and I couldn't just let it happen. It took me ages, though, to get my magic just right. I had all these seeds but none of them would grow!" His smile drops them. "Not that it made a difference when they did grow," he mutters. "Lancelot took all the crops away."

"Because he's a fool," she tells him. "He believes magic to be evil." She frowns. "I guess I did too. I didn't know any different; it's all I ever knew."

Magic had been banned in Camelot even before Gwen's uncle was king. One day, an eminent enemy of his had bribed a sorcerer to poison the king, in return for grandeur. Gwen's father had returned from a mission with his fellow knights only to find the kingdom under a powerful spell and his brother dead. No longer being able to trust magical people, he banished many of them to prevent anything like that from happening again.

"Magic is a very powerful thing," Merlin informs her. "Its potency is enough to corrupt the simplest of souls."

She smiles at him. "But not you."

"Not me," he agrees.

"Camelot needs more people like you, Merlin," she says.

Talk of Camelot makes her mind think of the situation back home. She thinks of her father, and then of Lancelot and her mind immediately flashes back to last night's events. That thing that's just at the edge of her mind is just there, waiting for her to remember, but she _can't._

She tries to recall what happened. She remembers being in a lot of pain and then being dragged across the ground by a knight, and then... and _then-_

She remembers-

She saw-

Her train of thoughts are disrupted by a knock on the door.

She turns her head in that direction, only to find a knight standing there, looking at her. It takes her a moment to realise that that knight is actually Arthur and her eyes widen in surprise.

Merlin takes one look at Arthur and then at Gwen. "I've just remembered that I've got to go and ... study the castle windows. I saw this really fascinating one earlier," he announces, before quickly leaving the room.

Neither of them notices.

Ever so slowly, Gwen gets out of the bed and goes to stand before Arthur.

"Arthur." His name comes out in a disbelieving whisper and she can't quite believe that she's looking at him after all this time.

"Gwen," he says; his voice just as soft.

The two of them spend a while just looking at one another. She remembers fully then the whole events of last night; of Arthur coming to her in those final moments and rescuing her. But that Arthur who rescued her, the one who stands before her now, is not the same Arthur she remembers. The one in front of her stands with a different kind of a grace; almost majestically. His hair is shorter and his skin more tanned. But the strangest thing for her to see is him dressed as a knight. He wears chainmail and the kingdom's cape of blue and gold, with an emblem of a phoenix, and it is this outfit that makes him virtually unrecognisable.

"You're a knight," she states, somewhat surprised.

"I am a knight," he confirms.

She smiles then, even if it seems a little uncertain. "That's great," she tells him. "I always thought that you would make a wonderful knight. How did it happen?"

"Well, that noble blood I have? It turns out that my mother was Princess of Lyonesse," he replies, and she can sense the pride in his voice.

She is stunned. "Wow," she says. She studies his face further, and another feature that strikes her is how regal he looks. Suddenly, she feels incredibly self-conscious. He looks incredible, for want of a better word. Self-assured and confident, he stands tall and proud like any knight would. On the other hand, she stands before him, her tunic in ruins and covered head-to-toe in dirt. And for the first time in her life, she feels completely inferior.

An awkward silence passes between them and it occurs to her that she's speechless. She had so many things to say, so many things to tell him, but now that he's within reach, she can't think of a single word.

As if sensing this too, Arthur gives her a discomfited smile. "I'll get the servants to bring you some food," he tells her, "and to run you a bath. I've got some knightly duties to attend to, but feel free to roam around the castle. Tomorrow when you are better rested, we will return back to Camelot."

Gwen nods then. As he leaves to go, she calls out his name. "Arthur!"

He turns around to face her.

"Thank you," she says, sincerely. "For everything."

He looks at her intently. "Anytime," he answers, just like all those times before.

* * *

Arthur walks away from Gwen feeling a little disappointed. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't imagined what it would be like to be reunited with her. In fact, many times when he was training to become a knight, he would imagine that he'd come back to Camelot, riding on a white horse (and it had to be white), and that he would find Gwen unhappy in her marriage to Lancelot. He'd feel the need to rescue her and she'd be delighted that he had returned. Lancelot would be angry at his intervention and would challenge him to a duel, but Arthur would win, one-handed, and with his eyes closed. Gwen would be so relieved that she'd kiss him deeply, and he would gather her on his horse, where the two of them would ride off into the sunset.

Of course, reality is always different to fantasy and this was no exception.

And while he didn't expect some extravagant reunion, he didn't quite expect her look of confusion.

He wanders outside the castle and finds Merlin sitting on a nearby wall, with a frown on his face. Walking up to him, he sees a note in his hand and Archimedes hopping around his feet.

"Bad news?" Arthur asks, going over to sit by him. Upon seeing Arthur, Archimedes lets out a hoot and goes to sit on his lap.

Merlin nods. "Things in Camelot have worsened. Gaius says that Lanceypants threw a hissy fit when the knights didn't return back to Camelot with Gwen in tow. He's tightened regulations in Camelot, if that's even possible, and Gaius is worried about the King."

"Has he got worse?"

"No, but Gaius is worried that Lancelot will do something to him. Gaius is permanently watching him and he has some knights on his side, but if the prat finds out that we're returning, I can only imagine the depths that he'll stoop to."

"I will not let him harm the King," Arthur says.

Merlin laughs drily. "For all your words, Arthur, I'm afraid it might not make a difference. Camelot is ages away. The possibilities of what he can do between now and the time we get there are endless."

Arthur lets out a frustrated sigh. "I don't plan to leave until tomorrow. Gwen needs to be rested and so do the knights. And now that Lancelot knows help is on the way, we need to make sure that we are really prepared for whatever he has to offer."

"And what about you, don't you need rest?"

Arthur gives a snort and goes to sit beside Merlin. "I may be a knight now, but I'm still the same person I was before."

"Getting by on little sleep," Merlin muses.

"Among other things, yes."

"So how did talking to Gwen go?"

Arthur shrugs. "It wasn't exactly what I expected."

"How so?"

"She seemed uncertain around me, as if she wasn't quite sure what to make of me."

"You've got to give her a chance, Arthur. The girl hasn't seen you in a year and a lot has happened to you both. You can't expect her to go leaping in your arms with joy."

"Exactly what has happened since I've been gone?"

Merlin hesitates. "I'm not sure if I should be the one to tell you. You need to hear it from her lips."

"Please, Merlin? I need to know, if only to understand."

Merlin sighs. "Fine, but don't think I'm giving you special treatment now that you're a knight."

"Please, if anything, I expect you to give me treat me worse."

Merlin gives Arthur a pointed look before saying, "Gwen was really upset when you left. As in, she walked around in a daze, hardly paying attention to anything anyone said. When her father officially announced hers and Lanceypants' engagement, Gwen ran out of the room. I don't know for sure, but I think she went to find you."

Shock overwhelms Arthur. In all honesty, he never expected her to do that. "But I'd already gone," he murmurs.

"You'd already gone," Merlin affirms.

"I feel like such an idiot!" Arthur exclaims. "I shouldn't have gone. I shouldn't have run away and left her."

"How were you to know that any of this would happen?"

"I could have kept in touch, instead of being so stupidly stubborn."

"You were setting up a new life for yourself here," Merlin points out. "You thought that there was no hope left between the two of you, so you felt the need to let go of something that wasn't yours."

"Well, I thought wrong."

"Arthur, look at you! And look at the life you've forged here. Would you really change all of that?"

"Yes!" he cries honestly. "If it meant ensuring her safety, I would sacrifice _everything_ for her."

"She managed to hold up her fort, Arthur."

"Just barely," he mutters. "She gets imprisoned by a fool and then almost ends up getting killed. And look at her! She's skin and bones! And so are you."

"Well, the last time I checked, you couldn't control a famine. And you shouldn't think about what's happened. The past is the past. Focus on the future. Go back to Camelot and kick Lanceypants' arse to the other side of the country! Isn't that what you've always wanted to do?"

From his lap, Archimedes lets out a hoot of agreement.

Arthur snorts, but a grin plays at his lips.

"And then after that, you can worry about fixing things," Merlin continues.

"I suppose," he begins, "that there is a grain of truth in your words."

"Try not to sound so surprised," Merlin muses.

* * *

Gwen relaxes in the bathtub of hot water and scented oils. It's been a long time since she's had a warm bath and longer still since she's been able to relax, and she closes her eyes, trying to enjoy it as much as she can. The hot water washes away the dirt and the lavender and jasmine oils help relieve the tension that seems to be stemming from every point in her body. When she feels suitably more relaxed, Gwen opens her eyes only to find two pairs of blue eyes staring at her from the rim of the other end of the bathtub.

She lets out a startled gasp and this is accompanied by the sound of the two figures giggling. She watches in bemusement as the two tiny figures move towards her, and they come to stand beside her head.

She tilts her face to look at them properly, and sees two little girls looking at her expectantly. They both have blonde hair and familiar-looking eyes, and she knows without a doubt that they are related to Arthur.

"Hello," she greets.

"Hello," they chorus.

"We've brought you a dress," one of them says, and together they both hold up a dress that's bigger than the two of them combined.

She resists the urge to laugh. "Why thank you, that's very kind."

"It's our mother's," says one.

"It is," the other agrees.

"Well then, I'll make sure that I take good care of it."

They continue to stare at her in intrigue.

One of them tilts her head to the side. "Is it true that you're a princess?" she inquires.

"I am," she confirms. "I'm the Princess of Camelot."

"The Princess of Cramalot," the other girl echoes. "We're princesses too."

"I can tell," Gwen muses. "You're both beautiful and wonderful like any princess is."

They both offer her toothy grins and one comes to lean on the edge of the tub.

"Do you know our cousin, Arthur?" she demands. "He's from Cramalot as well."

She beams at the girl. "I know him very well," she replies.

The other girl comes to lean on the bathtub too. "We like Arthur," she tells Gwen. "He teaches us how to ride a horse."

"And," the other one says in conspiring tones, "when Father isn't around, he teaches us how to sword-fight."

"With wooden swords," the other supplies.

"Well that's good," she tells them. "He's a very good teacher."

The one closest to her wrinkles her nose. "He's not _that _good," she muses. "We beat him all the time."

"Well, maybe you're _too_ good."

The girl considers this and nods in agreement.

"Princess, what is your name?" the other asks.

"My name is Guinevere."

"Gwen-ver," the girl says with a nod.

"And what's yours?"

"Elaine," she replies, almost shyly.

"My name is Anna," the other informs her.

"Well it's nice to meet you, Elaine and Anna."

"We have to go now," Anna tells her.

Gwen nods and smiles at them. "See you later, girls."

"Bye Gwen-ver!" they chorus as they run out.

Gwen watches them go and suppresses the urge to giggle at the strange encounter. Instead, she sinks down into the bathtub, completely submerging herself in water.

xxx

A couple of hours later, Gwen is out of the bathtub, relaxed and most importantly, she feels clean. The dress she wears is a little too big for her, but she tries to make the most of it. She looks into the dresser mirror in her room, and taking a comb beside her, she brushes out her hair and carefully compiles it on top of her head, securing it with pins. Placing the comb down on the dresser, she takes a good look at her reflection.

The woman reflecting back at her is a ghost of her former self. She's gaunt and there's a certain kind of sadness in her eyes that doesn't shift no matter which way she tilts her head. The aquamarine colour of her dress does its best to highlight her features and make her look feminine, but with only Arthur's necklace as an accessory, she doesn't feel particularly extraordinary. She's not usually overly concerned about her appearance, and yet looking presentable in front of Arthur all of a sudden seems incredibly important to her, regardless of whether he's seen her many times looking a state.

There's a knock on her door and she looks up to see a servant waiting to take her to dinner. Gwen takes a deep breath, smiling, as she proceeds to follow the servant. King Tristan meets her in the hallway and introduces himself to her. She's met him only once before and the memory she has of him seems completely different to that of the pleasant and regal man before her. He speaks of his concern for Camelot and the worry he has for her father, whom apparently is a good friend of his. King Tristan assures her that Lyonesse will do all they can to help, and he then leads her into the dining hall.

Gwen takes her seat at the end of the table and is glad to find Merlin sitting opposite her. At the head of the table, the king goes to sit, with his wife on one side of him and a teenage girl on the other, who Gwen assumes is the king's eldest daughter. The little girls that she met earlier are nowhere to be found, and Gwen guesses that they, along with their baby brother, are already tucked up in bed. Beside the girl, sits Arthur and as soon as he sees her he offers her a smile. Tentatively, she offers one back.

The food that is served is an array of extravagant dishes, all of which Gwen hasn't had in a long time. Upon seeing the dishes, she and Merlin exchange delighted grins. It's been so long since either of them have had something that isn't stale or revolting to eat, that they have to remember to eat slowly. Gwen savours each bite in case it's another long while until she eats like this again. In the midst of eating, she lifts up her head only to find Arthur looking at her keenly and his cool gaze on her makes her blush. Immediately, she drops her head back down.

After a while she gathers the courage to look at him again. He's talking to a knight beside him and it's a while before his gaze strays towards her. When he sees her looking at him, he raises his eyebrows as if to ask how everything is. She nods enthusiastically and he beams; something which causes her heart to jolt.

She turns her attention back to Merlin, who is looking at her, knowingly. The two of them laugh and finish their meal, and Gwen takes this time to ask Merlin about his life. The tales he tells her send her into hysterics, and after a while she looks up at the other end of the table, hoping that she isn't causing too much of a commotion.

Instead she finds Arthur playfully teasing his cousin and immersed in deep conversation with his wonderful uncle and aunt.

Realisation hits her then.

_He's happy here,_ she thinks. _This is where he belongs._

Lyonesse is an amazing kingdom, with an amazing king. Arthur has a wonderful family and a fantastic job.

Gwen's suddenly overwhelmed with sadness when it dawns on her that Arthur has no need to ever come back home to Camelot.

Feeling sick, Gwen stands up. "If you'll excuse me," she says to the people around her, "I need to get some fresh air."

Merlin gives her a look of concern, but she doesn't see it as she hurries out of the room.

She wanders around the castle aimlessly, until she finds herself an exit that leads to the gardens. She steps out onto a patio. There's a low wall that separates it from the rest of the garden, and Gwen goes to sit on it.

It's cold outside but she doesn't care. Instead she looks up at the stars shining down on her, and tries to place herself amongst them.

Disappointment wells up in her so strongly, that it shines like its very own star. She's overcome with the need to be incredibly selfish and to have him as her own. It doesn't matter whether he's a knight or a blacksmith's son, so long as he's _hers._ But she can hardly take him from this place he loves. He's happier than she's ever seen him, and she would be foolish to think that she could rival that.

Yet in his absence, she spent so much time wishing for his return. She had never wished for something so much; never desired something so deeply. When she dreamt of seeing him again, it never occurred to her that things could be this complex. She never imagined that there would be that awkwardness that accompanies not seeing someone in so long or the realisation that they've thrived in her absence.

A hand to her cheek brings away dampness and she realises that she's been crying. She mops the rest of her tears away and lifts her chin up higher; trying to prevent more from falling.

"Gwen?" a voice calls out from behind her.

She turns to see Arthur in the doorway and she stands to face him.

"I've been looking for you everywhere," he tells her softly. "What are you doing out here?"

"I er... just needed some fresh air," she tells him.

He nods, although he still looks at her probingly.

She goes back to sitting on the wall and he comes to sit by her.

Involuntarily, she lets out a shiver.

"Here," Arthur says, immediately unclasping his cape.

"Oh-," she says, about to protest, but he wraps it around her.

Immediately, she draws the two ends together, hugging it close to her. The scent of him lingers on it, and she breathes it in.

She smiles at him. "Still as gallant as ever," she muses. "Some things never change."

He smiles in return and his gaze lowers before lifting back up again. "I know I'm not exactly the same person I was when I left Camelot."

"I guess it would be foolish of me to think you would be," Gwen decides. "And besides, I'm not exactly the same person either."

"Well then, there's only one thing we can do to rectify this."

She looks at him in question. "What?"

"We need to reintroduce ourselves to one another."

She raises an eyebrow and Arthur raises his, but his request immediately shatters the awkwardness hanging in the air.

He stands up and outstretches his hand to her. "I am Arthur," he says to her, and just as she thinks he's finished, he carries on. "Son of Uther, nephew of Tristan, knight of Lyonesse...friend of Merlin."

Gwen laughs despite herself and standing up, she takes his hand. "I am Guinevere, daughter of Thomas, Princess of Camelot...also friend of Merlin."

Arthur brings her hand to his lips and places a kiss there. She smiles at him, finding his gesture incredibly endearing.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he informs her.

"The pleasure is all mine," she replies.

She looks up at him, admiring the dancing light in his eyes and it feels her with joy. _This _is the Arthur that she recognises; with _that _smile and _that_ all encompassing warmth of his. And it occurs to her that even though his status has been elevated, he still remains grounded and she admires him all the more for it. Somehow, it relives her to know that not all knights become like Lancelot- as if Arthur ever would.

He keeps a hold of her hand and she watches as his expression sobers. For a moment, the two of them stand there, simply looking at one another; every moment that they have ever shared flashes between the two of them, and the question of what's to come surrounds them.

"The last time I saw you-," Gwen begins, and then immediately stops. The last time she saw him, she'd been set to marry Lancelot and he had declared his love for her out of the blue; leaving her with a parting kiss and feelings she didn't realise she had until too late. "I've missed you," she says instead, her voice wistful and melodic.

"I've missed you too," he replies, voice full of honesty.

She gives a tiny nod in acknowledgement and then says, "I met your cousins today."

Grinning he responds, "And I bet they snuck up on you just like they did to me the first time I met them."

She laughs. "As a matter of fact they did, whilst I was having a bath."

He rolls his eyes. "They have no shame."

"But you're fond of them," she adds.

She watches his eyes light up. "Very. Before, it was just my father and me. And now I have this family who have become a big part of my life."

"I'm so glad that you're happy here." She means every word she says, but the contrast to what she's had to face and the struggles she's endured hangs in the air.

Immediately, guilt etches on his face. "I wish that-," he begins awkwardly, and then stops when he realises he doesn't quite know what he wishes. He wishes that he could erase the pain of her burdens, so that all the painful events of the last year never happened. He wishes that he hadn't made the decision to leave her, if only to spare her the heartbreak that followed. "I wished that things turned out better for you," he finally says.

"The last year has been incredibly hard," she admits. "But I'm better for it. I've had to stand on my own two feet and do things with courage and a resilience I never knew I had." A thought strikes her then. "I was going to marry_ Lancelot_!" she declares, and it occurs to her how ridiculous that seems to her now.

Arthur smiles, but this instantly drops. "I should have been there for when you didn't."

Subconsciously, she moves her hand so that her fingers intertwine with his. "As much as I would have loved that, your life in Camelot would have paled in comparison to your life here. When I see what you have here and what you've worked so hard to achieve, there's no way I would be able to deny you that."

A year ago, he would have quite easily been able to drop everything just to be at her side. But now that Lyonesse is such an integral part of his life, it seems a lot harder to say. "You're the most important thing to me," he tells her instead.

"And you are to me," she says. "But tomorrow we will head for Camelot and face the troubles there. But what about afterwards, what will happen then? I must look after Camelot and your place is here, without a doubt. But I don't want to let you go."

He watches as her eyes fill with despair.

Truth be told, Arthur hadn't given much thought to that. A day ago, Gwen was only but a dream, and other than imagining being her convenient knight in shining armour, he'd never given much thought to what would happen if he really did see her again.

He doesn't have the right answer to say to her and there's no easy solution for them. So instead, he lifts her hand to his lips. Through hooded eyes, he watches her as he places a kiss on each of her knuckles. The despair leaves her eyes and she smiles at him. Then slowly, he draws her closer, so she's flush against him.

She draws in a breath when his lips find hers; the mere sensation causing a mini-explosion in every single nerve cell. Her heart sings in jubilation as his lips move against hers, savouring his every touch, and her body finally feels like it's waking up from the daze it has been in since the moment he walked away.

What he can't say for certain in words, he puts behind this kiss.

And to her, it sounds an awfully lot like a promise.

* * *

A/N: The next chapter will take a little longer to post since it will be the last one. Thanks, and comments welcome!


	12. Chapter 12 Part I

**The Blacksmith's Son- Chapter Twelve Part I  
**

**Chapter**: 12/12 Part I  
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairings**: Arthur/Gwen  
**Disclaimer/references: **Merlin does not belong to me.  
**Summary: **He has the hands of a blacksmith but a heart of a prince- if only she could see that. AU fic, in which Arthur is the blacksmith's son and Gwen a princess- because being epic means being two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that fits, even when the colours have changed.

**A/N**: First of all, I would like to apologise at how late this update is. When I said it would take me a while to write the final chapter, I didn't quite expect that more than four months to pass before I did the next one, but that time has been occupied doing the Camelot Haiti Fic Exchange over on LJ, as well as a few other fic challenges and I also encountered a little bit of writer's block with this. Many thanks to mag2425 for her alpha and advice, catchtheskies for her alpha-beta-mega-awesometron, both of whom were instrumental in this chapter being written. Many thanks also to lovedbyahero for her beta. This chapter will be two or three parts long and will be posted over the week with an epilogue at the end.

To everyone who has stuck with this, I thank you, and to everyone who has taken the time to comment *hugs*

* * *

Arthur is up at the crack of dawn, going over final plans with the rest of the knights and tending to the horses. This is the first time the king has allowed him out on a mission with the majority of the knights, and there's a tingling feeling of nervousness in his stomach that he can't contain. There's a lot at stake here: the safety of the people of Camelot, the welfare of his fellow knights, King Thomas, Gwen...

Never has Arthur had so much riding on him before. He knows that their invasion of Camelot will be dangerous, especially seeing as Lancelot is expecting such an attack, and that gives the man the advantage. But Arthur has a few things that Lancelot doesn't: Merlin, the integrity of his men and his own strength and determination to triumph.

When the men around him fall silent, indicating the presence of someone approaching, he realises that one more important thing he also has: Gwen.

He turns around to face her and sees her tentatively coming towards him. She's wearing riding gear that he recognises as his cousin's and the cape that he gave her last night is still wrapped around her shoulders, and a smile graces his lips when he sees this.

Behind him, the knights start clearing their throats and simultaneously make excuses to leave, and this makes him smile further. When Arthur first arrived in Lyonesse, the knights were more than happy to accept him into their fold, having known of the king's nephew long before Arthur knew it was him. The majority of them weren't fazed that he was a blacksmith and if anything, they admired the hard work ethic and the humbleness that such a role had bestowed upon Arthur. For a while they'd been looking for someone to lead them and unexpectedly for Arthur, this turned out to be him. He bonded well with the knights and had a great sense of camaraderie with them. He learnt about their lives and place in the kingdom, but they seldom learnt much about him. There was a sense of bemusement as to why Arthur seemed so impervious to the attention of the ladies of Court, or indeed any kind of female attention, and it wasn't until they'd all been drinking heavily after a successful battle that Arthur's affections for the Lady Guinevere came out in a torrent of slurs and broken words. From then on the men knew that no one could capture the knight's heart because someone already had it. And that someone was as unattainable as she was beautiful.

That is, until now.

Gwen comes to stand in front of Arthur and they look at one another with affection.

"Good morning, Gwen," Arthur greets; warmth in his voice.

"Good morning, Arthur," she greets back.

"Did you sleep well last night?" he inquires.

"Very," she replies, beaming; the memory of last night's kiss dancing in both their minds.

"We will be leaving shortly," he informs her. "Are you ready?"

She shakes her head but answers, "Ready as I'll ever be." She extracts something that she has been concealing in her cape and Arthur sees that it is her sword. "Here," she says, presenting it to him.

He gives her a puzzled look, but takes it. "What's this for?"

"It's for you to have. This sword really helped me on my way here, and I thought that maybe it will bring you the same luck as it did me for the pending battle." She lowers her gaze. "It was made by this really good blacksmith that I know, so you can trust that it is a worthy sword." She lifts her face back up his and he sees that she is smiling.

He takes it. "Thank you. Are you sure you don't need it?"

She lets out a snort. "No, most definitely not. I don't intend to do any fighting- I've done enough to last me a lifetime."

He looks a little uncertain, and then takes out a jewelled dagger from his belt and hands it to her.

"_Quid pro quo_," he says and then adds, "Just in case."

She grins and takes it from his hands. With bright-lit eyes, she reaches up and places a firm kiss at the corner of his lips.

"A good luck kiss," she says to him as his eyes widen. "Just in case."

He lets out a content sigh and brings a gloved hand to her face, brushing a loose strand of hair out of the way. If he could just stay here with her forever, he would be happy.

His hand moves down to her shoulder and he touches the fabric of her cape.

"Am I ever going to get this back?" he wonders out loud.

She looks mischievously at him and shakes her head. "I kind of like wearing it," she tells him.

"You know, it took me months to earn that cape," he muses, although he knows it doesn't really matter. She looks better in it, anyway.

"Then we'll just have to negotiate. Survive this battle and I'll think about returning this cape." Her voice is teasing, but he can tell she's serious. There's fear in her eyes; fear for his wellbeing. He knows that feeling well, for he feels it too. Fear for her. Fear for Camelot. Fear for everybody.

"Deal," he says, extending his hand so they can shake on it.

Her gaze locks onto his. _Live for me, _her eyes plead.

And the silent plea that he returns is just as strong.

* * *

Soon after, they begin to head to Camelot. Arthur leads their troupe, Gwen and Merlin ride in the middle and there is about fifty of Lyonesse's best knights who ride with them.

Turning her head in the direction of the castle, Gwen can see the King and Queen waving them off, with their children surrounding them. She can just about see Elaine and Anna bouncing up and down beside them and can most definitely hear them shouting, "Bye Gwen-ver! Come back soooooon!"

She smiles and waves at them; a little sad to be leaving this kingdom. Everything seems so perfect here, but she has her own kingdom to return to. Camelot may have a long way to go before it's anywhere like Lyonesse, but it remains her home.

They begin to head off and Gwen clutches nervously at her reins.

Seeing this, Merlin turns to her. "I'm sure everything will be alright when we get there," he reassures her.

Gwen bites her lip. "I don't know," she says. "We've left it long enough. What if-," she stops and inhales sharply, not wanting to go on.

"Lancelot would have to get through Gaius to get to your father, and Gaius... well, no one messes with Gaius. Ever."

Gwen manages a smile. "Even so, all I can picture is Lancelot smugly sitting on my father's throne, revelling in his newfound power and being all...evil."

"Really? Because all I can picture is Lanceypants sitting on your father's throne, crying like a little boy. At least, he will be when we get to Camelot, that's for sure."

"I can settle for seeing Lancelot crying," Gwen decides.

A few feet ahead of them Arthur listens to their gentle banter.

From here he can hear Merlin's impersonations of Lancelot: high-pitched renditions of "_Why doesn't anybody _like _me_?_" _"_I just can't _take _it_ _anymore!"_and "_They messed up my hair!"_

His friend is doing his best to make Gwen laugh and soothe her nerves, and Arthur has to admit that his frayed nerves are being calmed as well.

When the opportunity arises, he looks over his shoulder in their direction and seeing this, Gwen catches his eye. She offers him a smile, reminding him what it is he's fighting for and he desperately wishes that this could all be over so he can be by her side. Instead, he returns her smile before turning back to look straight ahead. They still have a long way to go before they reach Camelot.

A few hours later as dusk is beginning to fall, they finally reach the kingdom and conceal themselves in the forest that surrounds the city, mooring their horses and preparing themselves.

Arthur is given his first glimpse of the kingdom in over a year and what he sees astounds him. When he left Camelot, the kingdom was flourishing and a realm envied by many. But the kingdom that stands before him is not the kingdom he remembers. Where once the grass was green and the crops prosperous, he sees that the grass is yellow in colour and weak-looking and the crop yield is abysmal. The kingdom also appears bare; bereft of bustling crowds, people going about their daily business and of _life._

"What happened here?" The words escape his lips before he has time to think, but of course he knows what has happened here, and yet seeing the reality is a lot harsher than hearing about it.

Gwen comes to stand beside him. "Life happened here," she says simply.

Arthur's brow furrows. How is it that the last year had been the best year of his life where as the people he had left behind had been dealt a poor hand by fate?

His jaw clenches. Whatever it takes- however long it takes, he is determined to reverse Camelot's poor fortune.

"It's not your responsibility, you know," Gwen says, as if reading his thoughts.

"Whose is it?" he wonders, and he means it rhetorically.

Gwen closes her eyes and tilts her face up the sky. "Mine."

When she opens her eyes he sees a determination there that matches his own.

"Let's take back this kingdom," she tells him.

And he smiles at her obligingly.

* * *

"So what's the plan?" Merlin inquires.

They are at the edge of the forest, observing the castle. From their vantage point, they can just about make out the knights stringently guarding the castle.

"I'm all for storming into the castle and finding that _rat_," Gawain pipes up.

"Noted and appreciated, Gawain, but we want to keep some sort of element of surprise." Arthur thinks for a few moments. "I imagine Lancelot thinks Gwen is bringing help with her, but I don't think he's counting on the fact that there are so many of us and I think we should use that to our advantage. In fact, we need to undermine him in any way we can. What do you think, Gwen?"

Gwen nods. "Knowing Lancelot, he probably expecting whoever is attacking to barge right in."

"So you're suggesting we sneak in through the back door, so to speak?" Gawain clarifies.

Gwen smiles. "Yes. There are a few secret passageways into the castle, but unfortunately they are known to Lancelot and I expect he would have a guard stationed at each just in case. However, there is one passageway that my father was careful not to tell anyone but me about. There's a tunnel that runs from the lower town to the armoury inside the castle. It's located near the servants' quarters so even if Lancelot has heard of it, I doubt it will concern him enough to visit."

"Well that sounds perfect!" Arthur says. "We'll go in through that way."

"What,_ all_ of us?" Bedivere sceptically asks, gesturing to rest of the party. "It may be a secret passageway, but somehow sneaking fifty fully-dressed knights through the passage is bound to get noticed by _somebody_."

Arthur looks slightly deflated by this revelation. "How about if some of the men stay here as back up while the other lot go and attack? We can call for backup if needed."

Bedivere wrinkles his nose in uncertainty.

"How about you set up a diversion?" Gwen pipes up. Everyone looks at her and she clears her throat. "I guess your objective is to get to Lancelot? And knowing him, he'll be sitting on my father's throne and making everyone do the dirty work for him. So maybe if the majority of the knights attack through the main way, Lancelot will think they're my rescue party and that I'm among them, but of course I won't be."

"Where will you be?" Arthur cautiously asks. Earlier, when Gwen had told him that she didn't intend to fight, he was relieved. He doesn't doubt her ability to defend herself- her fighting those knights in the forest is more than evidence that she can- but the memory of her lying on the forest ground, moments from death still resonates heavily on his mind. He doesn't want anything to happen to her, and there is even an irrational part of him that wishes she'd stay here in the forest until the pending battle was over, but it is hardly his place to say so. Gwen is a princess and free to do what she chooses and he would never undermine her authority. But more than that, he is well aware that his absence over the last year renders him voiceless. After all, she has been to hell and back without him, so him telling her that she should stay here where it's safe would count for nothing.

"I am going to see my father," she answers resolutely. "With Merlin, of course."

_Of course. _Arthur nods, although he can't stop the feelings of worry that begin to surface when he thinks about what could happen to Gwen if she steps inside the castle.

"So you're suggesting we set up a diversion?" Merlin elucidates. "If most of the knights attack the castle, Lancelot's men will undoubtedly go out to fight them-,"

"Leaving Lancelot behind," Arthur finishes for him.

"He'll be easier to flush out without his cronies," Merlin decides.

"So it's agreed then?" Gawain pipes up. "The majority of the knights will "attack" Camelot, leaving the rest of you to sneak in."

Arthur nods. "Gwen?"

Gwen nods as well.

"Okay. Gawain, Bedivere and Constantine, you're with us. The rest of you, follow my instructions..."

* * *

They stand and wait.

It begins to darken and colours of red and orange are thrown across the sky, and this cover of darkness is a welcome relief.

It's surreal for Gwen to watch as Arthur's knights ride up to the castle gates and "attack." She's never seen Camelot under attack before and certainly never like this. But then, everything from the last two days has seemed like something from a dream.

They listen as the knights guarding the castle yell and sound the warning bell upon seeing the approaching men. Within seconds, other knights fill the battlements and begin raining arrows down on the men, which they deflect as if it is merely flies being hurled at them and not weapons.

Gwen watches in mild shock as the scene of violence plays out before her, but she doesn't have long to dwell on it as Arthur ushers her along. Reminded of her purpose, she heads toward the entrance to the secret passageway with the others trailing behind her.

She's only seen it once, many years ago. Her father wanted her to know everything about the castle and she remembers this secret trip; the one of many to all the various hidden conceals of their home. But they'd travelled from the castle and even though he made her aware of where the passage exited, time has changed the look of the entrance and she has trouble finding it.

After a few false starts they finally find it: a nondescript cave that lies between the edge of the forest and the lower town.

To the unseeing eye it looks like a wide ditch, but Gwen knows better. She begins to pulls away at the overgrown branches and foliage that covers it, before the others step in to help and Merlin clears it all with his magic, revealing a metal grate.

Gwen gives it a hesitating look, but it's Arthur who jumps down into the wide- enough gap.

"I'll go first," he says and pushes at the grate with enough force until it opens.

He steps in and the others climb down and follow.

It's dark in the passageway and the floor is slippery from the stagnant water that has managed to enter and Gwen's reminded of how much she hated this place the first time round. Aside from the darkness and the infinite length of the tunnel, there's a pungent smell that overwhelms them all.

Merlin quickly eliminates the darkness problem by making a ball of bright light materialise in his hand, immediately lighting up the tunnel. He trudges on ahead and Gwen and Arthur follow side by side. Once or twice she slips and Arthur manages to catch her before she falls down completely. Annoyingly for her, he doesn't seem to have a problem with his balance.

Behind them, Gawain, Bedivere and Constantine follow, ambling along as though creeping through secret castle passageways was something they did often.

For all she knew, it could be.

It seems to take an eternity for them to reach the other end.

When they get there, Merlin unlocks the door with his magic and cautiously pokes his head out. Seeing that no one is there, he climbs out the enclosed space and the others follow one by one.

"A door hidden behind a coat of arms," Gawain says drily, turning back round to look at the display of shields. "Cunning."

"That shield means cunningness," Gwen replies drolly.

"You can exchange tactics later," Arthur speaks up. "Right now we have a castle to invade."

Peering around the door, Merlin says, "The coast is clear."

Arthur nods.

"We should go first," Gwen says.

Arthur exhales deeply.

"My father's chambers are the shortest distance from here. Plus, Merlin and I know the design of the castle better than anyone. If we get a head start, we can swiftly incapacitate anyone we encounter, making it easier for you to get to Lancelot," Gwen justifies.

Arthur remains dubious. While there is logic in her plan, he still doesn't feel safe in letting her go. He'd rather go with her to ensure that she's safe, but their diversion has bought them only a limited window of time to get to Lancelot. Once the knights realise that Gwen isn't among the party, they'll alert Lancelot and matters will deteriorate from there.

Besides, Gwen has Merlin with her if anything does go wrong, and he's fairly certain that Lancelot will be far too occupied with the ongoing battle to hang around in her father's room waiting for her to pay a visit.

"Okay," he says. And then to Merlin, "Don't hold back on your magic, okay? Whatever you encounter, use your magic to get past it."

Merlin grins. "Like you need to tell me."

"We better go," Gwen says. "We'll stay in my father's chambers until you give us the all-clear. Good luck, Arthur. You three as well," she says, turning to the other men.

They bid her and Merlin good luck and the two of them head off. Gwen gives ones final, reassuring look to Arthur and then she is gone.


	13. Chapter 12 Part II

**The Blacksmith's Son- Chapter Twelve Part II**

**Chapter:** 12/12  
**Rating: **PG  
**Pairings:** Arthur/Gwen  
**Disclaimer/references:** Merlin does not belong to me.  
**Summary:** He has the hands of a blacksmith but a heart of a prince- if only she could see that. AU fic, in which Arthur is the blacksmith's son and Gwen a princess- because being epic means being two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that fits, even when the colours have changed.  
**A/N**: Many thanks to mag2425for her amazing alpha, catchtheskies and lovedbyaherofor being wonderful betas who got this back to be pronto even though I only sent it to them today.

After this, there's just the epilogue! Thanks for all the lovely comments!

* * *

Arthur waits until the sounds of their rushing footsteps dies down before he motions for the others to follow him.

It's not until they're out of the armoury that he realises something incredibly foolish: _he has no idea how to get out of here. _

Although he has been in the castle many times before, he's never had any reason to come down to the armoury, and certainly the lower parts of the castle are off-limits to those who don't actually work there.

And instead of reaching any stairwell, they find themselves walking around in circles.

Arthur lets out a cry of frustration when he realises they're lost.

"You don't know where you're going, do you?" remarks Gawain.

Arthur shakes his head. As ever, the three men look at him without an ounce of criticism.

"No worries," Constantine says. "All castle layouts are essentially the same, aren't they? If the castle is like our one, then the stairwells are at the end of every main corridor, on the left."

Bedivere walks ahead. "There's no stairwell here," he reports.

"Fantastic," Arthur mutters.

"Where is an unsuspecting guard to accost when you need one?" Gawain muses.

"We could split up?" Bedivere suggests. "See who gets to the top of the castle first."

"No, it's best if we stick together," Arthur replies.

They begin to wander the corridors again. The corridors are dark and poorly lit, which doesn't help them to navigate their way around and Arthur fears they're getting even more lost with each step they take.

"Is it me or are we going deeper into the castle?" Constantine inquires.

"There's definitely an incline," Bedivere confirms.

Gawain curses and Arthur stops in his tracks.

"Can you hear that?" he asks.

The others stop and listen.

"Hear what, exactly?" Bedivere inquires.

The sound of a loud banging noise reaches them.

"_ That_" Arthur says.

They walk in the direction of the noise and reach the end of the corridor, which brings them to a junction.

"The noise is coming from there," Bedivere states, pointing to the right. "Should we investigate?"

"I'm not sure that's wise," Gawain utters, just as Constantine says, "Maybe we'll see someone who can tell us the way out of here."

They all turn to Arthur. He's conscious that they're running out of time, and that if they did head toward the noise, they could be walking into a trap. But then again, there are four of them and they are more than equipped to deal with any knights who may come their way. Arthur is beginning to feel a little desperate about getting out of this maze. There's also something compelling him to follow the sound and maybe the source _is_ somebody who can help them.

The other three follow him as he begins to wander down the corridor. It's dark down here and the dimly-lit torch that Arthur holds in his hand does little to light up the hallway. The sound grows louder and they find themselves at a stairwell that leads downwards.

Arthur looks at the others in question and they shrug. He decides to go down the stairs and the others trail behind him.

When they reach the bottom, the four of them step out to see where they are, and it immediately becomes apparent to Arthur as to where they are.

_The dungeons._

* * *

It is eerily quiet in the castle.

It's been a day since they were both last here but to her it feels like a lifetime. This castle isn't the same one she remembers fondly. This one is darker and tainted with the presence of an unwelcome guest but Gwen vows to restore it back to how it was, once this whole debacle is over.

They move stealthily through the corridors and it strikes her how odd this seems that they are sneaking around _her own castle_. Every time they hear a knight approaching, they press themselves into any convenient nook and cranny or conceal themselves in the shadows. But they only encounter two or three and she presumes that most of them are out fighting in the battle.

They reach her father's chambers easily enough, and Gwen is glad at how _simple _it seemed. There is no one around, and she goes over to the closed door. For a moment she hesitates, not wanting to go in -scared of what she might find beyond the door.

Seeing her reticence, Merlin goes to the door and placing his hand on the door handle he says, "I'll go in first, just in case."

Gwen nods, relieved, and watches in apprehension as Merlin open the door. Scenes of her father near to death flood her mind, but so do images of knights being in the room, or Lancelot being there waiting to pounce on her.

The door opens and reveals-

-_nothing._

Merlin and Gwen exchange confused looks. Her father's bed is empty and the sheets have been made up. The dying flowers that had been in the vase on his bureau had been taken away and replaced with fresh ones and all the clutter that had been gathered during her vigil had disappeared.

"Merlin, where is he?" she asks.

Merlin shakes his head. "Maybe he is with Gaius."

But the bad feeling that had been growing in the pit of her stomach tells her otherwise. This room has been tidied up, surely that had to be for a reason? Does that mean he is-?

She can't bring herself to finish that thought.

Panic begins to well up inside of her. Her father is supposed to be _here_ and she was going to make him better, and him not being here is what she had feared the most.

"Merlin, was the flag at half-mast?" she suddenly asks.

"What?"

"The castle's flag, was it at half-mast?"

"I don't know," Merlin admits. "I don't remember looking at it."

"Neither do I," she whispers.

"Is it important?" Merlin asks, hesitantly.

"Yes! If it's at half-mast, it means-," she doesn't finish that sentence. She tries to think of other hinting factors: whether the people looked particularly glum or upset, but she hadn't seen many people and besides, lately, _everyone_ had been feeling glum.

"Look, Gwen, I'm sure he's with Gaius. Gaius would have sent Archimedes if something had happened."

"What if something happened to Gaius?"

Merlin frowns. "Well, why don't we go and find him?"

Gwen shakes her head. "Merlin, you know as well as I do that whatever has happened to my father, Lancelot is behind this."

Merlin doesn't say anything.

"I have to go and find him."

"Your father?"

"No, Lancelot." Gwen walks over to the door.

Merlin's eyes widen. "Gwen, you can't! It's too dangerous!"

"And what do you expect me to do, wait here to find out the bad news later? My father could be _dead_, Merlin!"

Merlin eyes the princess. There's a glint in her eyes full of a maddening despair and he knows that she's at an utter loss over the situation. "I know," he says softly. "But going to find Lancelot won't help you. Why don't we go and find Gaius?"

Gwen's eyes are full of tears now. "If _anything_ has happened to my father, Lancelot will pay and I will be the one to instigate that payment."

There is a ruthlessness in her voice that Merlin isn't accustomed to, but before he has a chance to protest or beg that she sees sense, she is running down the corridor.

"GWEN!" he yells after her. "GWEN, COME BACK!"

But she doesn't heed his voice. She runs off, fully aware that she's scuppering Arthur's well made plans and more than aware that, by placing herself in danger, she places them all in danger. But somehow, the realisation that her father could be dead makes everything else seem irrelevant.

* * *

Guards immediately rush up to the four men upon seeing them, but the men incapacitate them in seconds.

With the guards rendered unconscious on the floor, the four of them look around and suddenly realise that they aren't the only 'visitors' here.

Walking through the dungeons, they see that each cell is chock-full of prisoners. Arthur immediately recognises them as people of Camelot.

_There must be half of the townspeople in here_, he thinks.

Empty faces with desperate eyes look at him, and it pains him to see that some of the people here are elderly people, women and even some children. Arthur instantly sees that the individuals here are what Lancelot would consider as peasants, and the man's transparency is so obvious that it fills him with a further burning rage for him.

Still following the noise, the men walk to the last cell at the end of the corridor, where the sound is coming from.

When they get there, they find the Lady Morgana standing there, banging her shackles against the bars.

Upon seeing them, she ceases the banging and gives all of them a haughty look. "Finally," she says with impatience. "I've been waiting for you."

* * *

Arthur looks at the lady. Her purple dress is thoroughly dirtied and her usually made-up hair is all over her face. She looks weary and, even though she doesn't give it away, there's a sort of desperation about her.

"Have you been waiting for us?" Arthur asks in confusion.

"Well _yes_," she answers. "Ever since I saw that you were coming back."

Arthur's confusion deepens. "How-," he begins, but Morgana cuts her off.

"There's no time for explanations. Arthur- _it is Arthur, isn't it_?"

He nods slowly.

"Arthur, if you don't mind...?" she motions to the door with her tied-up hands.

"Oh. Right." Arthur turns to Gawain. "Would you get the keys?"

"It's with the guard!" Morgana calls out, as Gawain goes to find the keys. "The fat, ugly one!"

Gawain returns moments later with the keys. He opens the door for her and undoes her shackles and she lets out a cry of relief.

"We must let out the other prisoners," she says, immediately afterwards. "Some of them have not eaten for days, but we must be quick."

Gawain quickly headsover to the cells, opening the doors. In one cell, there are a few tired-looking knights, whom Arthur vaguely recognises.  
"Why are you in the dungeons?" he inquires, as they walk out.

A tall knight with auburn hair looks at him, and Arthur remembers that he made a sword for him a long time ago. What was his name? Leon?

"Lancelot threw us in here when he learnt that our allegiance was not with him." Leon tilts his head. "Do I know you?" he asks. "You look familiar."

Arthur smiles. "I used to live here," he tells him.

"Oh," the knight says, his voice suggesting that he hasn't been any more enlightened.

Once all the prisoners have been released they reunite with their loved ones that had been separated into other cells. Leon is among the ones seeking out family.

"We must go," Arthur says, trying to figure out how to round up the people.

Morgana nods, but then falters as if something has just occurred to her. "Arthur, where's Gwen?"

"She's gone to see her father."

The lady's eyes widen in alarm.

Arthur stops what he's doing and looks at her. "What?"

Morgana looks troubled. "Lancelot has laid out a trap for her."

* * *

In hindsight, acting irrationally like that hadn't been her best idea, and maybe in the future she should bear in mind that when Merlin points something out, he's usually right.

If she had listened to him, she is fairly certain that neither of them would have run into a barricade of awaiting guards and they would not be in this predicament now: kneeling on the cold, hard floor with their hands tied behind their backs and a sword pressed into their necks.

They hear the sounds of approaching footsteps that Gwen immediately recognises as the arrogant swagger of Lancelot.

The man goes to stand in front of the dais that Gwen and Merlin face.

"Oh hello Guinevere," Lancelot greets, as if the two of them are stopping by for a casual chat. "How nice of you to-," he stares at her crouching form, "_ drop_ by."

Gwen can't speak with a sword pressed against her throat, but if she could, there would be a flow of obscenities coming from her mouth that most certainly would not be befitting from a princess.

From the corner of her eye she sees Merlin try to desperately mouth words, no doubt in attempt to utter an incantation.

Lancelot's eyes focus on Merlin as if he knows what the sorcerer is trying to do. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," he drawls. "If you so much as utter a spell, I will have _her_ neck slit," he says, pointing to Gwen. "Magic is forbidden in this kingdom and punishable by death and, believe me, I will make sure that is your fate."

Gwen's eyes widen in shock at Lancelot knowing and Merlin immediately stops mouthing.

"Yes, Guinevere, I know about your _friend's_ magic and I _know_ how you escaped from the castle." Lancelot moves closer to them. "It was cunning, I have to say, how the two of you managed to run away, but I knew you would be back: the lure of Dying Daddy was too big a lure to keep you away." He smirks; incredibly proud of himself. "Of course, I knew you wouldn't keep yourself amongst your _salvation_ army and would try and find a way to sneak into the castle. "Good job, by the way. How _did_ you get in?"

Gwen looks at him in stony silence.

"Oh that's right, you can't talk," Lancelot comments drily.

She looks darkly at him, but inside she is relieved. If Lancelot doesn't know how they got in, maybe that means he doesn't know that Arthur is here.

But where is Arthur? Shouldn't he be here by now?

"Don't look at me like that, Guinevere. It isn't very becoming. If you didn't want to find yourself in your current situation, you shouldn't have come back. At least, you shouldn't have gone straight to your father's chambers! Didn't you know that's the first place I thought you'd try to go to? I even made it seem like my security was lax. False sense of security and all that."

Gwen continues to shoot dark looks at him.

"Oh!" he exclaims. "Were you shocked when you discovered that your father wasn't in his room? I thought it might be more entertaining than you opening a door to a room full of guards." Lancelot smiles as if reminiscing over a fond memory. "Your father has been disposed of, by the way. He wasn't getting any better and you disregarding him implied that you did not care for him and I _certainly_ have no _dying_ need to have him alive, so I got rid of him."

Gwen's face crumples and she lets out a cry but it comes out as a weak gargling noise. She wishes to lash out at the vile man: hurt him and harm his as much as he's inflicted pain on her. Arthur's dagger is encased in the holster of her belt, which is hidden beneath her tunic and she would give anything to be able to take it out and use it on Lancelot.

"Maybe you should have stayed with your welcoming party, Guinevere, you would have been safer. Although I can't say that their attack has been successful. You might need to relay back to their king that his tactics need revising."

She refuses to believe that Arthur's army had fallen. Surely he was bluffing?

Lancelot steps in front of her. "I see you made yourself at home at whosever kingdom you visited," he says with disdain, lifting up a part of her cape and sneering. "A word of advice, next time you want to _fraternise_ with another kingdom, at least pick one that doesn't fall quite as quickly as this one does."

"Falls? I wouldn't be too sure if I were you, Lancelot," a voice speaks.

Lancelot looks towards the entrance which Arthur is nonchalantly leaning against, and upon seeing him, Lancelot's jaw drops.

Startled by the intrusion, the guards holding Gwen and Merlin loosen their grip and taking advantage of this, Merlin sends the two men flying in the direction of the dais just as Gwen hears Arthur says, "That was a _touching_ monologue there, Lancelot, it brought a tear or two to my eye. From boredom, that is."

Lancelot continues to look at Arthur in bemusement and Gwen takes this unguarded moment to lunge at the knight, punching him squarely in the face.

He curses her and stumbles backwards in pain. Gwen's fist hurts but she continues to rain blows on him, disregarding the fact that there is a dagger in her holster. Somehow, this physical release is much more satisfying.

Lancelot cries out and feebly tries to fend for himself by lifting his arms out in defence, but he's no match for Gwen's rage and he collapses to the floor, yelling abuse at her.

In the background she can hear Merlin cheering her on and the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Gwen, you don't mind if I cut in, do you?"

Gwen halts her attack and stops to look at Arthur for the first time since he entered. He looks positively calm and slightly amused by the situation.

"I don't want to stop your fun though," Arthur carries on.

Gwen takes a step back, exhausted. "Be my guest," she says, motioning to Lancelot.

"With pleasure," Arthur replies, stepping forward.

Lancelot looks up, out of breath and blood coming from his mouth. "Who _are_ you?" he demands, taking in the appearance of Arthur dressed as a knight and clearly not recognising him.

"Oh, just some...peasant," Arthur says with a shrug. "By the way, nice hair. I preferred it when it was longer and easier to ridicule, but I have to say this shorter style really suits you. It makes you seem more like an idiot."

The knight's eyes narrow, finally recognising Arthur. "_ You_!" he spits.

"Me," Arthur confirms.

Lancelot makes an effort to stand up and wipes the blood away from his mouth. "You are not a knight!" he spits.

"Oh, didn't you hear, Lancelot? Arthur is actually the nephew of King Tristan of Lyonesse, which technically makes him a prince, making him more superior than you," Gwen informs him from the sidelines.

"Really? How disturbing," he says to her. "What are you doing here?" he demands to Arthur.

"I've come to restore Camelot back to its natural order and usurp the usurper, which is you by the way."

Lancelot stands up tall and sneers. "And how are you going to do that? My men have debilitated the men you sent."

"Really?" Arthur asks. "That's interesting, because last time I saw my men, they were on the way to put your men in the dungeons. But I don't know, maybe this happened _after_ they were locked away? And in answer to your question, I'm more than willing to fight you. Although if you want a few moments to collect yourself, I'm happy to wait. You did just get beaten up by the princess after all."

Lancelot looks at him in ridicule. "You're challenging _me_ to a duel?"

"Yes, I am. It's been a lifelong dream of mine."

Lancelot laughs. "You've been a knight for what, a week?"

"More like a year, actually."

Lancelot continues laughing. "I was a knight before you could even talk!"

"I think you're overstating things there."

Lancelot shrugs. "It doesn't matter. My point is, my experience far outweighs yours. I would finish you off in seconds."

Gwen and Merlin, who are standing several feet away, exchange knowing smiles.

"Well if you're that sure, then you won't be afraid to fight me."

Lancelot smirks. "It will be the easiest fight I ever fought."

"Then it's settled. I will fight you to restore this kingdom to its rightful owner," Arthur states.

"Seeing as I'm sure it's me, I don't have any problems with that."

"If you say so." Arthur scratches the back of his head. "But just to clarify, Lancelot, would you like to fight now or do you want a few moments to sort out your hair?"

* * *

Gwen's sword seemed bigger and heavier than he remembered. He is certain that the sword was smaller; he remembers using it to train with her. Did the sword feel different when he used it the other day? He tries to think but doesn't remember. Still, this is a good sword; that much he remembers. Lancelot's sword is inferior in comparison. Although made by the royal blacksmith, the materials used aren't of the finest quality.

The two of them stand in the middle of the court and face each other squarely. Arthur's never fought indoors like this before, but he remains unfazed.

Lancelot fixes him with a smirk. "Ready to lose, peasant?"

"I'd ask you the same thing," Arthur muses.

Lancelot strikes the first blow, just as Arthur knew he would and he parries it instantly with great force.

The knight looks surprised.

"Don't mind me," Arthur says as he strikes back. "I'm just an amateur."

Lancelot counters him and they continue in this fashion; Arthur surprising Lancelot with each swipe of his sword.

But Arthur makes the mistake of momentarily looking in the direction of Gwen, who is watching him anxiously, only to have Lancelot swipe him across the face. The sword cuts his cheek and part of his neck and he reels backwards, but recovers swiftly.

Their fight continues and Arthur manages to strike a few harmful blows at Lancelot, who in turn strikes a few at him. Arthur begrudgingly admits to himself that Lancelot is one of the better swordsmen he's faced, and indeed this fight is lasting longer than he hoped for. After a while, he begins to tire and he can tell that Lancelot can see this.

There's no time to stop and no time for a break. In the background he can hear Merlin and Gwen encouraging him, and it's enough to spur him on, but his reactions begin to slow down. Lancelot has the advantage over him; he has not spent the entire day travelling to a different kingdom, nor has he been traipsing around the castle like Arthur has and he _knows _this. The knight begins to add extra force behind his movements and Arthur counters each of these with all that he has left. With the minimal strength he has remaining, he adds his own blows, but he is weakening.

It occurs to Arthur that Lancelot will eventually strike a fatal blow that he will not be able to avoid.

"You're weakening!" Lancelot mocks. "_ Yield_!"Lancelot swipes at Arthur's torso and he falls to his knees.

Arthur momentarily panics, but then something whispers to him: _Knowledge is power. _And suddenly he feels a burst of energy surge through his veins, unlike something he's never felt before.

Feeling invigorated, he cries, "Never!" and lifts his sword up to parry Lancelot's strike, throwing him off.

Arthur stands up and Lancelot doesn't look too happy by his sudden revival. Arthur continues to fight him, and as he does so, something begins to worm its way through his mind; unlocking a barrage of memories of him seeing Lancelot fighting, and suddenly he realises how he can win this fight.

He's watched Lancelot fight many times before; knows that by being a perceptive observer he's picked up on Lancelot's traits and patterns.

_Lancelot always strikes the first blow._

_He always hits his opponent on their left side._

_And when he believes that the game is almost over, Lancelot feigns attack in order to get the upper-hand._

Arthur can see in Lancelot's eyes that he's beginning to make this decision. He sees him resolutely step forward.

And then Lancelot feigns.

To the untrained eye, Lancelot's sudden movement looks like a forceful blow, but instead of following through and striking Arthur on the left, he steps in to strike Arthur on the right.

But Arthur's ready for him.

He uses Lancelot's momentum to counter him and send him flying.

And just like that, Lancelot lands on the floor.

Arthur walks over to him and places the tip of his sword against Lancelot's throat.

"The game's over, Lancelot. I do believe you've lost."

Lancelot glares up at him, defeated. "I suppose you're going to kill me now?"

"I could kill you," Arthur muses. "But if I did, someone would have to clear your dirty blood up from the floor." Arthur reaches down to haul Lancelot up. "No, I'm not going to kill you or even harm you further. _However_-," Arthur spins Lancelot around, so he's facing the way of the entrance, where a crowd of townspeople had gathered to watch the fight. "The townspeople, or 'peasants' as you so fondly like to call them, have not been too happy about the way you've been treating them as of late. I believe they would like to have a few words with you."

The townspeople look at Lancelot as if he's gold. They eye him hungrily, wanting to seek vengeance for the wrongs he's done them and Arthur can almost feel Lancelot's fear from here.

"I would run if I were you," he remarks, pushing the knight into the crowd.

Limply, Lancelot begins to run, but the maddening crowd follow him out of court and the knight is left at their mercy.

* * *

It is only Gwen, Arthur, Merlin and some of Arthur's men that remain behind.

Gwen is incredibly relieved that Arthur won against Lancelot and there's a sense of fulfilment that she doesn't ever have to worry about the knight ever again.

Just as she's about to go to Arthur to commend him, a figure comes hurtling full speed at her.

"Morgana!" she cries, just as the lady envelops her in a hug.

"Gwen!" Morgana exclaims. "Oh, I was so worried about you!"

Gwen hugs her back and then pulls away. "I'm fine. But- _oh_, what happened to you?" she says, eyeing Morgana's dirtied dress and dishevelled state.

"I'm quite alright. Lancelot threw me into the dungeons," she replies, blithely.

"He threw you into the dungeons?"

"Yes, but it was only yesterday. Luckily your nice friend Arthur came to rescue me. He's quite the knight in shining armour," she muses.

Morgana tosses a look over her shoulder to look at Arthur, who is deep in conversation with Merlin. When she turns back, she sees that Gwen has a big grin on her face and this makes the lady smile.

And then suddenly remembering what she came to tell her, she says, "Gwen, I have news about your father."

Gwen's face instantly falls. "I heard about him," she answers grimly. "Lancelot told me about what he did."

"Oh, but it isn't true!"

Gwen looks puzzled. "What?"

Morgana smiles again. "Your father is safe, Gwen. When Sir Leon informed me that you had left, the two of us smuggled Gaius and your father out of the castle and out of harm's way. It is the reason we were in the dungeons: Lancelot found out that we smuggled the king out, but we wouldn't tell him where."

Gwen's hands clasp over her heart and she gives out a cry of relief and joy. She jumps up and embraces Morgana again, and the two hug each other, laughing giddily.

_Merlin really was right about everything,_ she thinks. _Everything here really is going to be okay._

* * *

Arthur is about to head over to Gwen, but just as he does so, Morgana goes flying over to her and he decides to leave the two of them alone.

Instead, he watches the two of them in amazement, not quite able to believe that he's back in Camelot _and_ managed to overthrow Lancelot. He feels astounded, accomplished and still in utter disbelief about the whole situation.

"Your jaw is hanging open again," Merlin comments as he walks over.

Arthur narrows his eyes at his friend and clamps his jaw shut.

"So you did well today," Merlin continues. "That was an extraordinary fight. And-," Merlin's gaze suddenly falls to the sword Arthur is still holding in his hand. He furrows his brow. "Isn't that Gwen's sword?"

Arthur lifts the sword up and Merlin takes it. "It is. She insisted I have it."

"But this sword is only to be used by Gwen," Merlin says in confusion. And then frowning he says, "The sword has got bigger!"

"It has? I thought it might have done, but how is it possible?"

Merlin shakes his head. "I don't know," he answers. "Did the sword help you in anyway?"

Arthur thinks about that surge of energy he felt and the inspiration. "I believe so."

Merlin stops looking at the sword and lifts his gaze back up to Arthur. "This sword is only supposed to work when Gwen uses it."

"I know, you already said that."

"This sword that is only supposed to work when Gwen, the Princess of Camelot, _royalty_, uses it, somehow worked when you, the blacksmith's son and nephew of the King of Lyonesse used it."

Arthur nods, if not quite understanding what Merlin is implying.

Merlin looks at his friend in exasperation and waves the sword in front of him. "Do you not know what this means?"

Arthur shakes his head. "Should I?"

Merlin gives Arthur a pointed look. "I know my magic isn't flawless," he says. "But I do know that if I enchant a sword or any other object to be used by only one person, then that object is bound to them. The fact that you were able to use it suggests the sword is bound to you too."

"Well, I was with you when you cast the spell on the sword. Maybe it happened then."

"I would have known if that were so," Merlin says, shaking his head. "My magic is quite powerful, probably more powerful than most standard warlocks. But there's something out there that's much greater than my magic."

"And what's that?"

Merlin grins and shrugs. "I don't know," he says. "But I think it has something to do with destiny, maybe a little bit to do with love and a lot to do with aligning people to their true roles in life."

"What kind of cryptic explanation is that?" Arthur demands as Merlin begins to walk away.

"I'll explain it to you one day," he says. "Right now, your future awaits."

He frowns at Merlin's retreating figure and when he turns back around, he sees Gwen standing by his side, beaming.

His frown immediately drops. "Gwen," he softly greets.

"Hello Arthur," she says and looks right up at him. "You did really well today."

Arthur smiles. "I'm glad you think so."

"I can't thank you enough, for leaving Lyonesse and coming here to help Camelot and defeating Lancelot. I don't know what we would have done without you. Merlin and I would certainly never have made it out of the forest if it wasn't for you."

"You know I would do anything for you," he tells her. "I'm just glad I was given this opportunity to do so."

Gwen gives him a warm look. "You know, Camelot hasn't had a lot to celebrate in a long time, but we do now. We would be honoured- _I_ would be honoured if you and your men stayed another day to celebrate with us."

Arthur notices that there's a certain vulnerability in her eyes, as if she's pleading for him to stay. "Of course," he answers immediately. "My men and I would be honoured to attend the celebrations."

Gwen looks at him in disbelief as if she can't quite believe that he's agreed to stay, if only a day longer. Impulsively, she jumps into his arms, exulted, and he holds her tightly, beaming, and revelling in the closeness of her.

The two of them have come a long way since they last met and have found themselves in completely different places from when they first started.

Arthur has a lot to think about and many questions he needs to be answered in regards to what he does next. But when it comes to Gwen, the answer will always be yes.


	14. Epilogue

**The Blacksmith's Son- Epilogue**

**Chapter**: Epilogue  
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairings**: Arthur/Gwen  
**Disclaimer/references:** Merlin does not belong to me.  
**Summary**: He has the hands of a blacksmith but a heart of a prince- if only she could see that. AU fic, in which Arthur is the blacksmith's son and Gwen a princess- because being epic means being two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that fits, even when the colours have changed.

* * *

"For your services to Camelot, your honourable display of courage, your commendable efforts in helping Camelot when she was most in need and given that for many years you were a citizen of this kingdom, I hereby make you an honorary knight of Camelot." Gwen places the sword she holds in her hands on each of Arthur's shoulders. "You may rise, Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther, knight of Lyonesse, honorary knight of Camelot." Arthur rises from his kneeling position and when he is at eye-level with her, she whispers to him so that only he can hear, "And friend of Merlin," causing him to smile.

She extends her hand and brings him from his step and onto the dais. He turns around, facing the applauding crowd before him. They are all a sea of familiar faces: his men and the townspeople all packed tightly into court. He scans them all in- his men looking at him with amused grins ("An honorary knight? There's no such thing!" Gawain had exclaimed when Gwen had told Arthur she was making him one), Merlin clapping louder than the entire crowd put together, Morgana dressed in her finest gown and with a glint in her eye that suggests that she's going to make up for lost time spent in the dungeons, Leon and his family looking incredibly relieved to be free, Gwen standing next to him looking at him encouragingly and lovingly and finally from behind him, he sees the King sitting in his throne, still too weak to move, but thanks to Merlin he is better and not bound to his bed. The King looks at Arthur with pride and recognition and it leaves him gobsmacked because he never thought the day would come when the King of Camelot would ever know who he was.

Arthur takes in all these faces and memorises every expression and movement before him. He had dreamt of all of this for so long- of becoming a knight and for Gwen to see him as more than just a simple blacksmith's son. The long journey it took to achieve all these things- the isolation, the sufferings, the feelings of inadequacy, the heart break...it was all worth it to get him to where he is today.

There is a feeling within him that causes him to float higher and higher, and he's certain that his feet are well off the ground.

And there is nothing that will cause him to come back down.

* * *

"I have a medal," Merlin brags, coming up to him with Archimedes perched on his shoulder. Merlin motions to the gold medallion pinned to his neck scarf, which Gwen had given to him on her father's behalf, in gratitude for saving his life.

"I just got made honorary knight," Arthur counters.

Merlin's face drops. "You always take away my glory," he moans.

He comes to stand by his side and the two of them watch as people enjoy the feast before them. The food offered isn't grand by any means and it is only thanks to Merlin utilising the crops Lancelot stored away that they have any food at all, but to these people who have had so little to celebrate in a long time, the food could be fit for the gods for all they knew.

In the corner of his eye, Arthur absent-mindedly watches Gwen, who is talking to her father. There is a smile on her face and a healthy glow about her skin that greatly contrasts with the pale and frail woman he found near to death in the forest, and he is extremely glad for the transformation. He knows that part of that is because Camelot is safe again and because her father is well and he feels great relief that she got what she wanted after all.

"So how does it feel to be an 'honorary knight'?" Merlin questions. "Whatever 'honorary knight' means."

Arthur shrugs as Archimedes flies over and perches on his shoulder. "It feels surreal. I can't believe I'm a knight of Camelot!"

"Sort of," Merlin supplies. "You know, I could have been an honorary knight," he muses.

"Oh really?" Arthur says, lifting his hand to stroke Archimedes who begins to affectionately bite his hand.

"Yes, you see I could have taken out Lancelot."

"Was this before or after I rescued you from his evil clutches?"

"He threatened to kill Gwen if I used my magic!" Merlin protests. "Anyway, I knew you wanted to, so I let you fight him. But had you wanted me to, I could have wiped him out or made him three foot tall or inflicted incurable pustules on him. Instead, I let you have this protracted, drawn-out fight with him whilst injuring yourself in the process. Injuries which, by the way, I _can_ cure, but you're probably enjoying Gwen fawning all over them."

"I am not!" he exclaims.

"It's true and you know it."

Arthur shrugs. Maybe he did enjoy Gwen fussing over him. His eyes stray over to her again and he sees her talking to Morgana. Gwen lifts her head and catches him looking at her and he smiles at her, not embarrassed at being caught. She smiles warmly back.

Merlin knowingly follows his gaze. "So have you decided then?" he asks. "Have you decided what you're going to do?"

* * *

He had found her in the very place he had left her all that time ago: in the royal gardens, dressed in a dark blue dress and wearing his cape. She was sitting by the roses and examining each one. When she saw him approaching, she beamed and motioned for him to sit next to her, which he did so obligingly.

As he sat down, he looked all around him, noting how vibrant and alive the gardens were.

"Merlin," Gwen had said, answering his unspoken question.

He had smiled. "Of course."

When he turned back to face her, he saw that she was extending a hand to him, and in it was a dark pink rose.

"Here," she had said. "A token of my affections."

He had taken the proffered rose with another smile. "Just to clarify," he had said, "Is this rose in lieu of my cape?"

"Well, I told you I would think about giving back your cape if we survived the battle."

"Which we did."

"And I have thought about it, but the answer is no."

"There's a surprise."

"I can offer you an apple instead," she had replied, motioning in the direction of the orchard.

"Keep the cape, no exchange necessary."

They had lapsed into silence, before Arthur asked how her father was.

He had watched as Gwen's eyes brightened. "My father is much better, thanks to Merlin. I mean he's still weak, but he can talk now and Merlin assures me that he can only get better from now on." She emitted a little laugh. "Did you know that Morgana and Leon smuggled him into your old house?"

"_My _house?"

"Yes! At Gaius' suggestion. Lancelot would never have thought the King would be there."

"The King in my house- that's something I never thought would happen. So does he know about Merlin's magic?"

"Yes," she had replied. "He was surprised at first and maybe a little shocked, but when I informed him about the lengths Merlin went to in order to help me and to save Camelot, he was a lot less critical. Maybe I can even convince him that magic isn't the evil he thinks it is."

Arthur smiled. "Merlin would appreciate that very much."

"I know."

They lapsed into silence again, but the inevitable "what next?" question hung like a heavy weight in the air.

Finally, Arthur broached the topic and everything suddenly turned serious.

He knew that he couldn't bring himself to permanently leave Lyonesse. He had forged so much there: a new family and the company of the best knights in the entire land. Leaving them behind seemed like an impossible feat, but Gwen leaving Camelot wasn't even a question.

The colours of the sky began to change and darken, but they had remained on the ground, still talking, going over every possibility, trying to find a compromise and reach the easiest conclusion. Finally, they managed to make a heart-wrenching decision and then suddenly every moment henceforth seemed to slip through his fingers as he desperately tried to cling to them all: getting ready for the celebrations; the sight of Gwen standing on the dais, dressed in a berry red dress, with her hair down and adorned with a gold tiara and emerald necklace all taking his breath away; Gwen giving a speech to her people with the King sitting on the throne behind her, his face echoing her sentiments; Merlin receiving his medal; Arthur being knighted and marking the start of something new for Camelot; everybody celebrating and enjoying the food, music and drink; Morgana shamelessly flirting with Gawain; Gwen talking to everybody in the room, and finally Merlin coming up to him and asking the answer to a very important question.

He looks at his friend and nods. "I've decided to return to Lyonesse."

* * *

As everybody begins to dance, Gwen takes him by the hand and insists he dance with her. He doesn't need to be asked twice.

They pick a dance that matches the pace of the music, and Arthur is eager not to be left behind by Gwen's expert movements.

"You've improved!" she exclaims as he twirls her.

"Why yes," he answers. "In Lyonesse it is mandatory that every knight is able to dance."

"Because dancing makes the perfect secret weapon," she teases.

"Exactly," he answers as he twirls her again.

When his eyes meet hers again, he sees her eyes are full of sadness.

"I don't want you to go back," she says.

He stops dancing and looks at her. "I will return," he vows.

She shakes her head. "Not soon enough."

He extends his hand to her face and she closes her eyes at his touch. He examines her face and notices how her sorrow contrasts greatly with her radiant beauty and he sighs at the image. She opens her eyes, and sombrely extends her hand back out to him and he takes it, reeling her back in.

All around them people dance to the music, but the two of them dance to their own tune.

Gwen lifts her face up to his and a ghost of a smile flickers across her face. "This is how I knew," she told him.

He looks at her in confusion. "Knew what?"

"That I was falling for you. I realised it when I danced with you for the first time."

He laughs. "You realised this when I was tripping over my feet in front of you?"

"How is that different from when I met you all those times before?"

He shakes his head and twirls her again. "Once, I met this little girl who consoled me when I fell over. She gave me a handkerchief and handed me her flowers and she's held a special place in my heart ever since."

Gwen frowns. "That girl was me?"

Arthur nods. "Merlin says you're the only thing that stopped me from becoming a hard-edged, cynical man."

"But I don't remember that meeting."

"I don't expect you to."

"But I should remember it."

"It was a long time ago," he assures her. "And for all I know, maybe you rescued crying little boys all the time."

"Hardly. So that was the first time you met me?"

He nods again.

"I wish I'd known you longer," she says wistfully, although they both know it wouldn't have made a difference.

Around them, people begin to head home and the candles begin to dim but they continue dancing; wanting to savour whatever remaining time they have left.

The faint glow of the candles offers little light and what light it does offer seems to throw an enchantment across the room, making it look like an entirely different place.

They are alone now and are free to dance across the entire floor should they choose to, but instead they remain in the centre; Gwen's head leaning gently against Arthur's chest and her wishing that this moment could last forever. Arthur wishes he could stay another day longer, but he knows that if he did so, he would find it increasingly hard to return back home to the kingdom he belongs to.

At some point they stop dancing and stay standing there. One by one the candles die out and Arthur's arms go around her to keep her close.

Gwen lifts her face to his and places her hand against his cheek in an echo of his gesture to her. He closes his eyes as her fingertips dance across his face, memorising each feature.

He opens his eyes just as the last candle flickers out. His lips meet hers halfway and in the darkness they stand, sharing their last goodbye.

* * *

From her tower she watches as he leaves; her heart growing heavy at each step he takes away.

She'll see him again, she knew that much, and they had even worked out a schedule. He would split the four seasons up, so that he would spend two in Camelot and the other two in Lyonesse. Pending an official engagement, she would be free to join him for small periods in Lyonesse, but for now she would await his return, and use Archimedes to exchange letters in between. The separation would be hard but not impossible and she was just glad that they were able to reach a compromise.

Gwen had bid him and his men goodbye before they had set off and then had rushed up to her chambers so she could watch as they faded into the distance.

She sees him ride upon his white horse and lead his men away. He looks magnificent and although once it was hard to reconcile the image of Arthur as a knight with the familiar image of him as a blacksmith teaching her how to fight, now she sees that it was a natural transformation.

Gwen's eyes are glued on Arthur's back and it is not long before he turns around to look in the direction of the castle. His eyes seek out the tower and it's not long before his eyes are on hers and she is reminded of a similar instance to this, such a long time ago.

He waves to her and smiles; the faraway distance seeming all that nearer.

And she looks at him one last time and smiles; glad for the day that their two worlds ever collided.

* * *

A/N: Just a few things:

There's a two-chaptered counterpart fic that focuses on Arthur and Merlin's friendship, of how they became friends and how Arthur found out about Merlin's magic. It also tells the Arthur/Gwen story from Merlin's POV, with some new scenes there as well. For those who haven't read it but would like to, please let me know in your review and I'll send you the link. I will not be posting any more of my stories on ffnet , but for those who would like to read my other Arthur/Gwen stories (for which I have quite a few) again, let me know in your review.

This was originally just going to be a five-chaptered piece, in which the worst thing Lancelot was going to do was have an affair with Morgana, but turned into this instead. And yes, I did leave the epilogue a bit open-ended. I did not want a Disney-like ending as I didn't think it would be realistic for them to marry and live happily ever after, when they had objects still getting in the way (like Arthur being needed in Lyonesse.) At least this way it ends hopefully!

This has been incredible to write (and it still amazes me that people actually enjoyed reading this), and probably the best thing that came from it was the friends I made and I'm very sad (although relieved) that it has finally ended!

To those that were here from the beginning, those who joined in at the end and those who came in midway, I appreciate it. To everyone who constantly and always made the effort to comment, I thank you for making the effort. This is my first story on ffnet to get over a hundred reviews and that makes me so happy. So thanks to everyone who made an effort to review! And for those who have yet to review, I'd still love to hear from you.

Thank you for reading.


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